The Darkest Hour
by Sharon
Summary: A crime scene call turns out to be anything but routine for Steve. STORY COMPLETE!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: The characters of Steve, Mark, Amanda, Jesse and Emma don't belong to me. I borrowed them for this piece of fan fiction. The other characters are my own creation and any resemblance to someone living or dead is strictly a coincidence.  
  
Chapter 1  
  
"Dad?!" Steve Sloan let himself in the front door and tossed his keys on the hall table.  
  
"In the kitchen," came the reply.  
  
Steve bounded up the steps into the living room and crossed through to the kitchen. "I was about two minutes from home when you paged me. What's up?"  
  
"Your sister called."  
  
"Carol?"  
  
"Yes, Carol. Unless you have other sisters I don't know about?"  
  
"No." Steve defended himself against his father's gentle teasing. "I'm just surprised that's all. How's she doing?"  
  
"Fine. She called to tell us that she's coming for a visit."  
  
"Really? When?" Steve was skeptical. It wasn't the first time Carol had planned to visit only to renege at the last minute.  
  
"She's driving down and should be here sometime Saturday."  
  
"Driving? In her car?" The last time Carol had been to visit she'd been driving an old compact car that by all rights should've died long before.  
  
"She's got something newer. She assured me it was reliable. I asked, too, before I could stop myself."  
  
Steve laughed. He couldn't help it. It seemed neither he nor his dad could quite break the protective habits they had when it came to Carol. He could just imagine her bristling when she was asked if her transportation was reliable. He also hoped that she was really planning on coming. One of the things Steve found so difficult to accept about Carol was her spontaneity and her lack of consideration for other's feelings especially, it seemed, their dad's. She often spoke and committed herself to things and then had to back out. Each time she cancelled a visit Steve was always the one who had to comfort Mark. He fervently hoped this time would be different but didn't hold out much hope. However, he refused to let his skepticism dampen his dad's obvious enthusiasm.  
  
"Well, it'll be nice to have her around for a few days. Let's just hope her visit isn't as exciting as the last time she was here," Steve said, referring to the murder of Carol's no-good husband Bruce.  
  
*****************  
  
Saturday dawned foggy and rainy but by mid-morning the weather had cleared and the sun was shining brightly. Mark could barely contain his excitement as he thought about seeing his daughter again. Although not nearly as close as he and Steve, Mark was trying to rebuild his relationship with his daughter.  
  
"Dad, I'm headed for the station."  
  
"What? I thought you had the weekend off."  
  
"I do, but I have to catch up on some paperwork and this is the first chance I've gotten all week. I don't want to have to do it while Carol is here."  
  
"Okay, but she should be here by this afternoon. She called while you were in the shower."  
  
"I promise not to be gone long. If she gets here before I come home, call me at the station."  
  
Mark watched Steve drive away then paced the deck for a few minutes. Snapping his fingers, he detoured into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Just as he thought, he'd forgotten to buy the strawberries when he'd done the shopping yesterday. Grabbing his keys, Mark scribbled a note for Carol in case he was gone longer than he anticipated and headed for the farmer's market.  
  
Just over an hour later Mark turned into the driveway both relieved and disappointed Carol hadn't arrived yet. He put away the fruits and vegetables he'd bought and poured himself a glass of iced tea. Stepping out onto the deck, he sank wearily into one of the deck chairs. Soon the warm spring sun relaxed him and he drifted off to sleep.  
  
***************  
  
Mark awoke with a start and immediately looked at his watch. He'd slept far longer than he intended but a late night at the hospital combined with his excitement over Carol's impending visit had contributed to his getting only a few hours of sleep.  
  
Entering the house, he called, "Carol? Steve?"  
  
Only silence answered him so he looked for a note that might indicate that brother and sister had gone out somewhere together. Not finding one, Mark picked up the phone and dialed the police station.  
  
"Steve, it's Dad," Mark said after Steve identified himself.  
  
"I'm on my way home, Dad," Steve said, knowing he'd be in trouble for staying at the station so long. "As usual this paperwork took me longer than I thought it would."  
  
"Carol's not there with you, is she?"  
  
"No."  
  
"She's not here yet either. I fell asleep on the deck and just woke up. I thought maybe she called you and drove in to meet you."  
  
"I'm sure she's fine, Dad. She'll probably be there by the time I get there."  
  
"Steve, when I talked to her this morning she said she was only four hours away, and that was," Mark checked his watch, "over six hours ago."  
  
Steve could hear the agitation in his dad's voice. Damn you, Carol, for making Dad worry, he thought. Unlike Mark, Steve had long ago grown used to Carol's irresponsible habit of being late or getting distracted and losing track of time. It was just a part of his sister he'd learned to live with over the years. He strove to keep the anger out of his voice for Mark's sake.  
  
"She probably just had car trouble. If it'll make you feel better, I'll call a friend at the highway patrol and see if they've answered any roadside assistance calls."  
  
"Thanks Steve." Relief was evident in Mark's voice.  
  
Steve promised to call back as soon as he knew anything and hung up. Flipping through his phone book, he found his friend's number. It took three transfers, but Steve was finally connected to his friend who was on the shooting range. After apologizing for bothering him on his day off, Steve explained what he needed.  
  
"I'll look into it immediately," the officer promised.  
  
Steve tried to concentrate on his paperwork but his thoughts kept drifting to Carol. This behavior was more irresponsible of her than usual and he intended to let her know it wasn't appreciated the first chance he had to get her alone. When his phone rang about a half hour later, he grabbed it before it had even finished ringing once.  
  
"Sloan here."  
  
"Steve, it's Zach. I checked with dispatch and they've had half a dozen assistance calls in the last six or seven hours but none of them match your sister's description. I even checked with a couple of county sheriff departments based on the route you think she's taking, but they hadn't had any calls matching her description either."  
  
Steve let out a frustrated sigh. "Thanks, Zach. I appreciate your help."  
  
"I wish I could've done more," Zach replied. "Let me know if there's anything else you need."  
  
"Thanks, buddy. I will."  
  
Hanging up, Steve dialed the beach house. Mark answered immediately. "What did you find out?"  
  
"If Carol had car trouble she didn't get help from the highway patrol. None of their calls match her description."  
  
"Then where is she?"  
  
"Dad, I'm sure she's fine. She probably stopped in one of the small towns to do some shopping and lost track of time. Or maybe she pulled off to get some rest. It's a long drive from Portland and she was driving through the biggest share of the night." An officer dropping a crime scene address on his desk distracted Steve. He sighed silently. His dad was just going to be thrilled by the fact he now had to go to work. "Look Dad, I've got to get to a crime scene. By the time I get home, I'm sure Carol will be there and we'll sit down for a late dinner, okay?"  
  
Mark agreed but Steve could tell he wasn't convinced. Steve didn't have time to think about it at the moment, however. Grabbing his keys and his jacket, he headed out to LA's latest crime scene.  
  
***************  
  
Steve pulled his car up next to a black and white unit and turned off the engine. He surveyed the scene as he got out of the car. Yellow police tape cordoned off the area and the usual assortment of bystanders stood behind it hoping to get a glimpse of the latest tragedy. Sighing, Steve ducked under the tape and headed toward a couple of uniform officers. He noticed the medical examiner's car and absently wondered if it was Amanda who was on the scene.  
  
Flashing his badge, Steve asked, "What we got?"  
  
"Not much right now," one of the officers admitted. "Caucasian female, late thirties, maybe early forties. About five foot nine, maybe 130 pounds give or take a few pounds either way. No id on her. We've got some other uniforms canvassing the surrounding area for her purse and a weapon."  
  
Steve could see the ME kneeling next to the body. It wasn't Amanda he noted with some disappointment. "Cause of death?"  
  
"Two gunshot wounds. One to the neck and one to the chest. Doc Moeller says she was probably dumped here after she was dead. No sign of any shell casings and there's very little blood at the scene."  
  
"Who found her?"  
  
"Beat cop. He was chasing a shoplifting suspect through the alley and just happened to spot her hand under the trash."  
  
"I'll want to talk to him later." "He'll be available. He doesn't recognize our Jane Doe as a regular from the neighborhood. She's nicely dressed, casual, but not expensive and not like a lot of the neighborhood women if you get my drift."  
  
Steve nodded. The alley bordered a street where prostitutes were known to spend many an evening peddling their trade. It wouldn't have been the first time a pimp or john had played too rough and left his handiwork behind. Usually those were beatings or strangulations though. The fact the cause of death was gunshot wounds led Steve to agree with the officer that this was unrelated to any of the neighborhood women.  
  
"Let's go meet Jane Doe."  
  
The ME was still kneeling next to the body when Steve and the uniformed officers approached effectively blocking Steve's view of the body.  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
Rising, the ME stripped off his gloves. "Definitely dumped here. I don't think the gunshot wounds killed her immediately. She probably bled to death. And I don't think she's been dead more than a few hours. It doesn't appear she was sexually assaulted either, her clothes don't appear to be disturbed, but we'll check for sure during the autopsy."  
  
Steve nodded and Doctor Moeller moved away offering him his first view of the victim's face. For a minute he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him and he blinked hard, but when he opened them again the scene remained the same. Dark spots danced in front of his eyes and he had to fight to remain conscious. As if from a distance Steve was aware of one of the officers questioning him.  
  
"Lieutenant Sloan, are you alright? Lieutenant Sloan?"  
  
Backing away from the victim, Steve wondered if he were going to be sick. His stomach churned and he couldn't seem to catch his breath. He covered his face with both of his hands hoping to erase the grisly scene from his mind.  
  
"Call Detective Lopez," Steve instructed the officer faintly. "Get her down here."  
  
The officer nodded and went to do as he'd been told puzzled by the ranking officer's reaction to seeing the victim. The young man had no idea that the lifeless body belonged to Carol Sloan Hilton, Steve's younger sister. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
Steve couldn't stop shaking. From his car, he watched the crime scene activity continue although he was quite sure he couldn't explain what was going on at that moment. He saw Detective Emma Lopez pull up and get out of her car. She spoke briefly to both the Medical Examiner and one of the uniformed officers before taking a look at the body. She turned back to the officer and he pointed in the general direction of where Steve's car was parked. Opening the door, Emma slipped quietly into the passenger seat. She was filled with compassion as she looked at Steve.  
  
"You had no idea?"  
  
Wordlessly, Steve shook his head.  
  
"I'm so sorry," she said, softly, reaching over to squeeze Steve's hand. "Have you told your dad yet?"  
  
Steve shook his head again. "I.he." His voice broke. "He's going to be devastated."  
  
Like you aren't, Emma thought to herself. Out loud she said, "We'll get him, Steve. We'll get the bastard who did this."  
  
Steve finally looked at Emma and the grief on his face nearly took her breath away. "I want you on the case, Emma."  
  
Nodding, she replied, "I'll clear it with Captain Newman. Don't worry."  
  
Emma left Steve in the car while she spoke with the Medical Examiner again and arranged for one of the uniformed officers to follow them to the beach house in her car. Gently she guided him from the driver's side, around the front of the car and back in on the passenger side. Reaching into Steve's jacket pocket, she found the keys and inserted them into the ignition. Resisting the urge to floor the accelerator, Emma drove away from the crime scene without a backward glance.  
  
***************  
  
The trip to Malibu was completed in near silence except for the crackle of Steve's police radio. Turning into the Sloan driveway, Emma watched her car pull in behind her and the black and white unit bring up the rear. The uniformed officer stopped long enough to return Emma's keys before rejoining his partner and driving away.  
  
Steve watched them leave. "I wish I could go with them."  
  
Emma didn't know how to reply. "I'm going to go talk to the captain. Call me if you need anything." "Please." Emma turned back at the sound of Steve's voice. "Could you.would you come in with me before you leave? I don't.I just don't think I can get through.he'll want the details and I can't handle that." he trailed off.  
  
"Sure."  
  
Steve led the way up the steps and into the house. He could hear his father's footsteps coming to meet him and had to resist the urge to turn and flee. There was no way to avoid this. In less than two minutes, Mark would know the devastating news.  
  
"I'm glad you're home. Carol's still not here and I'm - " Mark rounded the corner and saw that Steve was not alone. "Sorry. I didn't realize you had someone with you."  
  
"Dad, you remember Emma Lopez don't you?"  
  
"Yes of course." Mark looked closely at Steve. "What's wrong? Did you find out something about Carol?"  
  
"Dad, I have something to tell you and I think maybe we should sit down."  
  
Mark's unease grew. "I don't want to sit down. Just tell me what you found out."  
  
Steve steeled himself for the inevitable. "Dad, Carol's been - "  
  
"Was she in an accident?" Mark interrupted. "Is she in the hospital?"  
  
"Dad, she's.she's." Steve couldn't force the words out past the lump in his throat.  
  
Emma stepped forward. Despite having delivered this news to dozens of other families during her career, it never got any easier. The experience usually left her feeling weak and nauseous for hours afterward. And this time it was compounded by the fact that she had a personal connection to the family. Ruthlessly shoving her personal feelings aside she faced Mark.  
  
"Doctor Sloan, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but Carol was found murdered earlier today." She paused briefly to let that piece of news sink in. "A patrol officer found her in an alley. It appears that whoever did this dumped her there. She didn't have any identification on her, but we're certain it's Carol. Ben Moeller was in the process of transporting her to the morgue when we left the scene."  
  
Mark shook his head vigorously. "This must be a mistake. It can't be Carol. If there wasn't any identification, how can you be so sure it's her?"  
  
"Steve was - "  
  
"Dad," Steve interrupted. "It isn't a mistake. I already identified her." He paused and swallowed hard. "It's Carol." Mark appeared not to hear him. "It can't be Carol," he repeated. "This has to be a mistake."  
  
"Steve has already positively identified her as Carol," Emma repeated, gently.  
  
Abruptly, Mark turned and headed for the front door. Steve asked anxiously, "Where are you going?" He didn't think his dad was in any condition to drive.  
  
"To the morgue," he replied, impatiently. "I want to see this Jane Doe for myself."  
  
"Why?" Steve wanted to spare his father having to see Carol in the morgue.  
  
"If this really is Carol, and I'm sure it won't be, then, as her father, making a positive identification is my responsibility."  
  
Steve could tell his father would not be deterred. It was going to take a trip to the morgue to break through Mark's wall of denial. Steve knew the next few hours would not be pleasant and, despite his desire not to see again what he'd already seen, he also knew he could not leave his father to face this alone.  
  
"Wait. I'm coming with you."  
  
Emma had seen the myriad of emotions fly across Steve's face. "Do you want me to come too?"  
  
"No." Steve locked the door behind him. "You need to get back to the crime scene. Call me when you know something. Anything."  
  
Emma nodded and watched as Steve slid behind the wheel. Mark was already seated in the passenger side staring straight ahead. Her heart ached for the genial doctor who was so obviously in denial and for Steve who more than anything had wanted to spare his father the pain of seeing his only daughter lying in the morgue. Emma knew the next few weeks were going to be difficult for them, but she hoped to ease their pain by finding the person responsible for doing this. Sighing, she flipped open her cell phone.  
  
"It's Lopez. Tell me what you know and it better be good." 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
  
Amanda Bentley grimaced as another file was dropped on her desk. That meant another body had been brought to the morgue and would have to be scheduled for an autopsy. It had been a busy evening already and the clock hadn't even struck midnight, Amanda thought cynically, which is when the abusers, drunks and murderers usually crawled out from under whatever rocks they'd been hiding.  
  
A sharp knock and the door opening caused Amanda to turn. "Mark, Steve," she said, surprised. "What brings you in tonight? Shouldn't you be home with Carol?"  
  
"We need to see a body that should've come in a little while ago."  
  
"Well you've come to the right place," Amanda said, wearily, "but you'll have to more specific. I've had three people come in in the past couple of hours."  
  
"Female, without any identification."  
  
Amanda frowned. "Nobody fits that description." Her eyes fell to the stack of files on her desk and she recalled the folder someone had dropped there just before Mark and Steve came in. "Is this a case you're working on?" she asked Steve.  
  
"No."  
  
Steve's terse reply startled Amanda. He seemed very tense, she realized. The stiff way he held his body and the distressed expression he wore suddenly made her very uneasy.  
  
"You're sure you haven't had any unidentified females come in?" Mark asked, sounding hopeful.  
  
Rising, Amanda casually picked up the stack of folders from her desk including the newest one right on top. She had a feeling it was that folder Mark was interested in. She had no idea what information it contained, but for some reason she was reluctant to open it in front of her friends. Maybe it was Steve's obvious distress that was fueling her reluctance or maybe it was just her imagination working overtime. Whatever it was, Amanda decided she needed a couple of minutes to regain her composure.  
  
"Ben Moeller got a call earlier. It seems like he should be back by now. I'll go and check if he's unloading the van. Wait here, I'll only be a couple of minutes."  
  
Amanda waited until she had turned the corner and was out of sight before opening the top folder. After quickly scanning the contents, she slammed it shut in disbelief. Ben Moeller came around the corner at the other end of the hallway just in time to see Amanda's reaction.  
  
"Not very good reading material, I guess."  
  
Amanda ignored him. "Where's the female GSW victim you brought in?"  
  
"In a locker waiting for an autopsy."  
  
"I want to see her," Amanda said, starting down the hallway.  
  
Ben fell into step beside her. "Nothing special about this one. Cause of death is pretty obvious, but the police are looking for time of death, physical evidence, signs of sexual assault, that kind of stuff."  
  
Amanda winced at the possibility of Carol being raped as well as murdered. How would Mark and Steve handle that? she wondered.  
  
When Ben folded back the sheet to reveal the woman's face, Amanda couldn't quite suppress a quiet moan. Tears welled in her eyes and she turned away quickly, heading for the door. "Her father is here to identify her."  
  
Ben was confused. "It was done at the scene."  
  
"Don't argue with me. Just get her ready."  
  
Out in the hallway, Amanda took several deep breaths and wiped her eyes. She had to be composed so she could help her friends through what would, undoubtedly, be a very traumatic time for them. Her composure nearly broke though when she walked through the door and her gaze locked with Steve's. He had known from the moment he'd walked into the office what the outcome would be, Amanda realized. That was why he'd been so tense.  
  
Amanda broke eye contact and cleared her throat. "Mark, Ben's getting her ready. Just pull the curtain back."  
  
"We've viewed bodies before, Amanda. We'll just go in."  
  
"Dad." Steve's tone was pleading.  
  
Mark didn't appear to hear his son and started down the hallway. Steve hesitated, torn between his desire to avoid the sight of his sister on a morgue table and to protect his father. In the end, however, he followed Mark. Stomach in knots, Amanda brought up the rear.  
  
Ben Moeller was waiting next to the table when the trio entered. If he was surprised to see them in the room instead of on the other side of the window, he didn't show it. He didn't greet them, just silently waited for Mark's nod to lift the sheet and reveal the woman underneath.  
  
For several long seconds there was only silence. Mark was the first to break it. "Oh no!" he exclaimed in anguish and horror.  
  
The noise seemed to penetrate Steve's own shock. "Come on, Dad," he said gently, putting his arm around Mark's shoulders to lead him away.  
  
Mark shook him off and returned to the table. "My baby, oh Carol," he kept repeating as he stroked her hair.  
  
Amanda covered her mouth to smother her own sobs. Catching Ben's eye, she nodded for him to follow her out into the hallway.  
  
"Doctor Sloan's daughter." It was a statement rather than a question. "I got the identification from Detective Lopez so I didn't make the connection at the scene."  
  
Amanda nodded miserably. "Carol kept her married name even after her husband was - " she paused and laughed humorlessly, "murdered."  
  
"Any chance it's related?" The pathologist was already sifting through the information for clues that might help the police.  
  
"No. Those people are in prison."  
  
Ben looked at Amanda. "Will you be okay?" He knew about her close friendship with the Sloan men.  
  
"I've got to be. I have a feeling they're going to need me." Her voice quavered slightly. "This won't be an easy time for them. Just give them all the time they need. I'll let you know about the autopsy."  
  
Nodding in understanding, Ben turned and went down the hallway toward his office. Amanda, fearing her legs would no longer hold her upright, sank heavily into her chair. She dropped her head into her hands for a moment, then took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Reaching for the phone, Amanda picked up the receiver and began dialing.  
  
*************  
  
Jesse Travis had just put the key in the lock of his apartment when the pager at his waist went off. Pushing the door shut behind him, he yanked the offending instrument from his belt and groaned out loud. He'd just finished twenty fours in the emergency room and was exhausted. Couldn't they get along without him for a few hours?  
  
Sighing, he looked at the display and was surprised to see the number for Amanda's path lab in the window. He'd seen Amanda around dinnertime and she knew he was heading home for some much needed sleep. If she was calling, it must be important.  
  
Jesse bypassed the hospital switchboard and dialed the path lab directly. Amanda answered on the first ring, her voice more subdued than normal. "Doctor Bentley, County Medical Examiner's Office."  
  
"Amanda, this is Jesse. You getting a cold or something? Your voice sounds funny. I got your page. What's up?"  
  
"It's not good news, Jesse. I know you're exhausted, but can you come back to the hospital?"  
  
"What for?"  
  
"Please, Jesse. Not over the phone." Amanda's voice broke and tears welled in her eyes.  
  
Dread settled in Jesse's stomach. "What's happened? Is it Steve? Has he been shot?"  
  
"No. Oh Jesse, it's awful!" Her breath caught on a sob. "Mark and Steve are in the morgue right now identifying a body. It's Carol, Jesse. Carol was murdered."  
  
Jesse was stunned. A surge of adrenaline chased away his exhaustion. "I'll be there in twenty minutes," he promised.  
  
When Jesse entered the path lab almost exactly twenty minutes later, Amanda was sitting behind her desk staring into space. Although no longer crying, he could see the remains of tears on her cheeks. She started when the door slipped out of his grasp and banged shut behind him.  
  
Amanda gave Jesse a shaky smile. "I'm sure glad to see you."  
  
Jesse shook his head. "I can't believe it. Where are Steve and Mark?"  
  
"Still in with Carol. I told Ben Moeller to give them all the time they needed. I'm pretty sure Steve knew when he came in. I could tell something was wrong, I just didn't know what. Mark had to be in denial. That's the only way I can explain his attitude. I know Steve just wouldn't bring him here without preparing him first."  
  
Jesse's gaze darted over Amanda's shoulder at the sound of slow, heavy footsteps coming down the hall. It only took a few seconds for Mark and Steve to come into sight. His unsettled stomach protested even further when he saw the look of utter devastation on Mark's face and Steve's tightly controlled grief. He approached them slowly not sure what to say. All his training as a doctor did not prepare him to comfort his best friends after this type of tragedy.  
  
"Mark, Steve, Amanda called me at home. I'm so sorry. I don't know what else to say."  
  
"Thanks Jess," Steve said automatically.  
  
"I think you better let me drive you home," Jesse said, concerned about the matching glazed looks his friends wore. "Someone can bring your car out to the beach house later."  
  
"I don't understand," Mark said suddenly. "How could this happen? Who did this?" He turned and faced his son. "Who would want to do this to Carol?"  
  
Steve winced at the depth of his father's anguish. "I don't know, Dad," he replied, fury choking his voice, "but we're going to find him and make sure he's punished."  
  
Amanda laid a gentle hand on Mark's arm. "Why don't you let Jesse take you home now? Ben is going to do the autopsy, and he's going to turn everything he finds no matter how insignificant over to the police. We will find the person responsible for this."  
  
"Oh no, I can't bear.please, Amanda could you do the.the autopsy? The thought of another stranger touching her.after everything she's been through.it's more than I can bear right now. I trust you. I know you'll treat her with respect."  
  
As much as she wanted to, Amanda could not refuse Mark's request. Her best friend and mentor had just lost his only daughter to a violent crime and she couldn't change that. She could, however, put his mind at ease that in this traumatic time Carol would be treated as a person and not just another victim. "Of course, Mark," she assured him softly. "I'm sure Ben will understand."  
  
Mark's shoulders sagged in relief and Steve pushed him gently toward Jesse. "Go with Jesse, Dad. I want to talk with Amanda for a minute, but I'll catch up."  
  
"Come on, Mark," Jesse said, leading him away.  
  
Steve waited until he was sure his dad and Jesse were out of earshot and then turned to face Amanda. "Dad shouldn't have asked you to do the autopsy."  
  
"It's okay. I'll admit I'm not looking forward to it, but I know it's really important to Mark."  
  
"If you don't do it, he'll never know the difference."  
  
"But I'll know," Amanda said, "and, like you, I can't lie to your father. He sees right through me. Anyway, I feel so helpless right now. At least this way it feels like I'm doing something."  
  
Steve bowed his head, overwhelmed at the depth of Amanda's friendship that she would put her personal feelings aside to honor his dad's request. "Thank you."  
  
Amanda brushed his cheek with a kiss. "Go home. I'll see you later tomorrow."  
  
Steve caught up with his dad and Jesse at the nurses' station where Jesse was signing a chart handed to him by the senior nurse on duty. Everyone wore sympathetic looks on their faces, but his grief was too fresh, too private and Steve wasn't ready to face them yet to collect their expressions of sympathy. Averting his gaze, he walked out the emergency room doors into the cool night air.  
  
The drive to the beach house was as silent as the drive to the hospital had been just a few hours earlier. Occasionally, Steve could hear his dad sigh deeply and he knew Mark was trying to control his emotions at least until he could be alone. Steve looked at his watch. How different this night had turned out from what they had planned, he thought. If Carol had arrived safely, he imagined the three of them would be sitting out on the deck enjoying the cool spring evening and each other's company.  
  
Jesse took the keys from Mark's trembling hand and opened the front door. He flipped on a light and then led Mark into the living room so he could sit down. Steve stood near the door as if seeing the house for the very first time. Finally, he came in and sat next to Mark.  
  
"Dad, can I get you anything?"  
  
Numbly, Mark shook his head. Jesse recognized the signs of shock and was concerned about how Mark would feel physically when the shock finally wore off. He sat on the edge of the coffee table so he could look Mark square in the eye.  
  
"I think you need to lie down and try to get some rest."  
  
"I don't think I could sleep."  
  
"You need to try. Mark, so much has happened in a very short time and you're in shock. There's going to be more to deal with in the next few days. You need to take care of yourself." Jesse paused and added softly, "Wouldn't Carol want you to take care of yourself?"  
  
Jesse knew by adding that last question he'd be using Mark's vulnerability, but it got the desired result. "I guess so."  
  
"Come on, Dad."  
  
Jesse watched as Steve guided Mark down the hall toward the master bedroom. He had never thought of his friend as old but, at that moment, Mark looked every one of his seventy plus years. Waited a few minutes so Steve could help Mark get settled, Jesse quietly slipped into the bedroom. He took a small envelope from his jacket pocket.  
  
"Mark, I want you to take these," he said, shaking two capsules out of the envelope.  
  
Mark shook his head vehemently. "I don't want them."  
  
"And normally I'd agree with you, but tonight you don't get a say in the matter. I think it's a good idea for you to take them."  
  
"Jesse's right. One night won't hurt. I'll stay with you until you fall asleep."  
  
Satisfied that Steve would make sure Mark took the pills, Jesse went back to the living room. His earlier adrenaline rush had faded and he was exhausted, but he needed to stay awake long enough to check on Steve. About 15 minutes later, Jesse heard footsteps coming down the hallway and looked up. Steve nodded at his questioning look.  
  
"He fought it, but he's finally asleep."  
  
"Good. I have two more. I'm hoping you'll be smart and take them too."  
  
"No."  
  
"Be reasonable. You need rest too."  
  
"I should call Amanda."  
  
"She's working and you know how she hates to be interrupted when she's working."  
  
"Then I should check with Emma. See if she's found out anything."  
  
"Steve, you need to stop being a cop. Emma has everything under control, and I'm sure she'll be in touch as soon as she knows something." Jesse laid a hand on Steve's arm. "She's a good cop, Steve. Let her do her job."  
  
Steve's shoulders sagged. "I just feel so damn helpless."  
  
Jesse set a glass of iced tea in front of Steve. "I understand that," he said, quietly. "I feel helpless too. Two of my best friends are in pain and there's nothing I can prescribe that will make the pain go away."  
  
Silently, Steve sipped his tea. Jesse's words barely registered as he tried to sort through his grief, rage and helplessness. He'd seen his father cry tonight and it shook him. He couldn't ever remember seeing Mark cry not even when his beloved Katherine had died. Then Mark had sort of withdrawn into himself for a while as a way to deal with his grief leaving Steve and Carol to grieve alone. Maybe this time would be different, Steve thought as he fought to keep his eyes open.  
  
Jess reached for the nearly empty glass in Steve's hand. "Come on, buddy. Let me walk you downstairs."  
  
Steve lurched to his feet. He couldn't believe how fast exhaustion had overcome him. One minute he'd been wide awake drinking the iced tea, the next minute his eyelids felt like they were being weighted down with rocks. Through blurry eyes, he looked at Jesse with suspicion.  
  
"You put those pills in that tea didn't you?  
  
Jesse didn't deny it. "I did it for your own good. You were wired tighter than a spring and you need to get some rest if you're going to be any help to Mark or yourself."  
  
"You had no right! I need to be there for Dad in case he needs something. I have to be ready when Emma calls."  
  
Sighing in frustration Jesse said, "Mark will sleep all night just like you, and I'm spending the night because I'm too tired to drive home."  
  
Steve was losing his battle against the drug. "I loved Carol so much," he blurted out. "I didn't tell her that enough. We didn't get along very well, but I did love her." Steve looked up at Jesse. "Do you think she knew how much I loved her?"  
  
Jesse's heart constricted at the pain and uncertainty in his friend's voice. Under the sedative's influence, Steve's vulnerability had been allowed to break through his usual ironclad control. Jesse was sure Steve would be embarrassed at his emotional outburst if he even remembered it the next morning.  
  
"What if she died wondering why I wasn't there to protect her? What if she died thinking I didn't love her?"  
  
"She knew, Steve." Jesse soothed him. "I'm absolutely positive Carol knew that you loved her and that you'd move mountains and slay dragons to protect her."  
  
Steve's only reply was a deep sigh as the sedative finally overtook him. Jesse snapped off the light and trudged wearily back upstairs. He stretched out on the long sofa and reached for the blanket Mark kept draped across the back. Before he could finish shaking it out, Jesse was asleep. 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
Mark woke with a start, momentarily disoriented. Slowly his bedroom came into focus and he became aware of the pounding surf through his open window. Rising from the bed, he walked slowly down the hall and pushed on the partially opened door of the guest bedroom. Instead of seeing his daughter asleep, the bed was neatly made and the flower he had put in the vase in anticipation of her visit bloomed brightly on the bedside table.  
  
Taking a shuddering breath, Mark shut the door firmly. He had hoped, no prayed, that he had just awoke from a very realistic nightmare. Instead, he realized, he was waking up to the nightmare. He really had seen Carol lying in the morgue last night. He vaguely remembered Steve handing him two pills and a glass of water before everything went black.  
  
The thought of his son increased Mark's sense of urgency. Where was Steve, he wondered? As he passed through the living room, he found Jesse asleep on the sofa. Mark went downstairs and entered Steve's apartment. It was dark and quiet, and at first he thought Steve was gone, but when he peeked into the bedroom he was relieved to see him asleep. The blanket was on the floor and the sheet was twisted around his legs, a silent testimony to the restless night he must've had. Mark started to back out of the room when he was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to be near his remaining child. Easing onto the bed, he settled himself against the headboard and watched Steve sleep.  
  
*************  
  
Jesse stirred and peered at his watch through half closed eyes. Although the house was still quiet, he knew the sedative he gave Mark and Steve would be wearing off soon. He figured he better get some coffee into his system so he'd be better equipped to help his friends cope.  
  
While the coffee brewed, Jesse flipped on the television. The local morning news had just started and with a sinking heart he realized Carol's murder was the lead story.  
  
"We have more information on the breaking story we were first to bring you last night," the anchorwoman said. "The LA County Medical Examiner's Office and the LAPD have identified the body of the woman found murdered in an alley early yesterday evening as Carol Hilton of Portland, Oregon. She is the daughter of Doctor Mark Sloan, Chief of Internal Medicine at Community General Hospital and the sister of Lieutenant Steve Sloan, a homicide detective with the LAPD. Few details are being released at this hour although the police will confirm that Hilton was shot twice and her body dumped in the alley. Her car hasn't been recovered yet leading to speculation this could have been a carjacking that went terribly wrong. There's been no comment from Doctor Sloan or Lieutenant Sloan and according to a LAPD spokesperson they are in seclusion at this hour."  
  
Jesse snapped off the television with a muttered curse. He was glad Mark and Steve hadn't heard that although he knew he wouldn't be able to shield them from the media reports forever. Due to Mark's prominence in the community and Steve's position within the police department, Jesse feared the media would be more relentless that usual. He was about to call Amanda when a soft knock on the French doors startled him into almost dropping the phone. Looking over his shoulder he was relieved to see Amanda through the window.  
  
"Why didn't you use the front door?" he asked after letting her in.  
  
"You obviously haven't looked out there yet. Several members of the local media have set up camp. Emma and I could see them as we drove up so she let me out and I came up the beach. She's chasing them away."  
  
"Who's chasing who away?"  
  
Neither Jesse nor Amanda had heard Steve and Mark enter the kitchen. "Emma is asking the media to leave. They were outside the front door when we got here."  
  
Steve swore under his breath. Before he could see if she needed any help, Emma appeared at the French doors and let herself in.  
  
"Are they gone?"  
  
Emma nodded. "There'll be an extra black and white patrolling for the next few days to make sure nobody has a chance to get too close."  
  
"Thanks, Emma."  
  
"What have you found out?"  
  
"Not much," Emma admitted reluctantly. "We had to contact Oregon authorities to find out for sure what kind of car Carol was driving. It hasn't shown up and neither has her purse. But there are a lot of dumpsters in the area and the guys are still going through them. They're not giving up. Nobody's giving up. We're going to find whoever did this."  
  
"What about the autopsy?"  
  
Amanda didn't bother to consult the file on the counter in front of her. She didn't have too. She had committed the results to memory. "Pretty much as we expected. Carol had bruises on her upper arms and shoulders consistent with someone grabbing her. She had traces of skin under her fingernails but not enough to use for a DNA sample." Anticipating Steve's next question she added quietly, "The rape kit came back negative. Carol wasn't sexually assaulted before or after her death."  
  
Mark's shoulders sagged with relief at the news. He'd hated the thought that somebody could've further violated his daughter. From the look on Steve's face it was obvious to Mark that he, too, had been wrestling with the same fear.  
  
"Did you run a tox screen?"  
  
"Nothing significant showed up. Just some ibuprofen. Full results won't be back until tomorrow."  
  
Jesse cleared his throat. "What about Andrea? Or Vince and Malcolm?" he asked, referring to the trio responsible for murdering Bruce.  
  
"All three are still guests of the State of California. I have people checking the visitor logs, the phone records and doing interviews to determine if one or more of them are responsible."  
  
The group fell silent each person sifting through the limited information they had in an attempt to figure out who would want to harm Carol. Amanda sighed silently thinking about how many times they had worked at solving a murder sitting around this same table. If it weren't for Carol's name on the folder in front of her, they could be discussing any one of those previous cases. Amanda regretted having to bring up the next subject, but she couldn't put it off any longer.  
  
"Mark, by tomorrow we'll be ready to release Carol's body. I'll need to know who to.where to." Amanda silently cursed her stumbling tongue. "I'll need to know which mortuary you'd like me to call."  
  
Mark looked at Steve in despair. "We never talked about these things with Carol. We have no idea what her wishes were."  
  
"I think she'd probably like to be buried next to Mom."  
  
"Then that's what we'll do, I guess," Mark said. "We can make the arrangements with the same mortuary that did your mother's. I have the information in my desk somewhere."  
  
"We'll find it and call Amanda with it later. Okay, Amanda?"  
  
Amanda swallowed the lump in her throat. "Sure," she replied, huskily.  
  
"What about clothes?" Mark asked with despair. "We don't have anything for Carol to wear."  
  
Steve assured his father they would find something for her to wear. "If we don't get her suitcase back, then we'll go out and buy something special."  
  
Emma watched sadly as Steve and Mark went to the living room to look for the mortuary information. "Sometimes this job sucks," she commented, bitterly.  
  
Jesse and Amanda nodded in agreement. "What's your next step?" Jesse asked.  
  
"Since we don't know anyone here who'd have a motive for wanting Carol dead, I'm going to call the Portland PD. See if maybe they can't interview her coworkers and neighbors to help us get a lead."  
  
"When you get a hold of someone there could you pass the name on to me?" Amanda asked.  
  
"Sure," Emma replied. "What do you want it for?"  
  
"I just had an idea on how I could help Mark and Steve. I don't want to say anything yet until I know for sure if it'll work."  
  
"Anything I can do to help?" Jesse asked.  
  
"Not at the moment, but I'll let you know." 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
  
Early the next morning, Amanda arrived at LA International Airport and boarded a plane to Portland. After leaving the beach house the previous morning, she had gone home to try and explain to Dion and C.J. what had happened even as she had struggled to understand it herself. The carpool had come to take them to a soccer game and she had dropped exhaustedly into bed without even bothering to remove her clothes. It had been well after lunch when she'd been awakened by a call from Emma with the name of the Portland detective who'd be assisting with the investigation.  
  
Amanda had taken a quick shower, made herself a cup of coffee and then called the Portland detective. She had introduced herself and explained to him that she wanted to gain access to Carol's apartment to collect some of her belongings for her family. She would need his assistance Amanda had reminded him since Carol's suitcase, purse and keys hadn't been recovered yet.  
  
Detective Bryton had hesitated but only briefly. Taking her flight information, he'd promised to meet her at the airport. Amanda thanked him, called Jesse who agreed to drive her to the airport, and then had sat down to make a list of items she wanted from Carol's apartment.  
  
Coming through the gateway after an uneventful flight, Amanda scanned the waiting crowd for someone who might be Detective Bryton. She spotted a uniformed police officer standing near the check in desk and headed toward her. The officer watched Amanda approach and was the first to speak.  
  
"Doctor Amanda Bentley?" Amanda nodded. "I'm Officer Lori Turner. Detective Bryton has been delayed at a crime scene. He asked me to meet you and drive you to Ms. Hilton's apartment. He'll meet us there."  
  
"Thank you. I apologize for taking you away from your regular duties."  
  
The officer laughed. "I should be thanking you. I've been on desk duty for the past couple of weeks because of some complications after having my wisdom teeth out. I'm hoping to get back out on patrol tomorrow."  
  
As they drove across town, Amanda got her first look at the city Carol had called home. "It's beautiful. I can see why Carol liked it here so much."  
  
"Did you know Ms. Hilton well?"  
  
"Not really. I work with her father and brother. They're two of my dearest friends."  
  
Detective Bryton hadn't arrived yet by the time Amanda and Officer Turner pulled up in front of Carol's apartment building. Officer Turner knew the property manager was expecting them so after radioing her position to dispatch they rang his bell. The door opened almost immediately and they were ushered inside by Martin Lewis. Amanda liked the man instantly which made her task of explaining Carol's death even harder. He stared at a copy of the death certificate Amanda had brought along for a quiet moment and then turned to his desk to get his set of keys. Martin led them to Carol's second floor apartment while giving them a running editorial about the crime problem in big cities. He stood uncertainly at the door after letting Amanda and Officer Turner in.  
  
"Is there something else, Mr. Lewis?" Amanda asked.  
  
"You say you know Carol's family?"  
  
"That's right."  
  
Martin stared at the floor for a moment then looked at Amanda. "I never met her father or brother, but you tell them I'm real sorry for their loss. Carol was a real nice girl. She looked in on me last winter when I had bronchitis and we spent time talking about family, both hers and mine. Yep, she was real nice. I'm sure gonna miss her."  
  
Amanda had to swallow the lump in her throat before she could reply. "I'll be sure to tell them, Mr. Lewis."  
  
Martin Lewis nodded and shut the door quietly behind him. Amanda heaved a silent sigh, and then took her first look at Carol's apartment. It was bright and cheerful with lots of homey touches that included plants, a fish and framed photographs of friends and family.  
  
Officer Turner's voice broke into Amanda's thoughts. "What is it we're looking for?"  
  
"A threatening letter or evidence she took out a PPO against someone would go a long way in establishing a motive," Amanda said, "but I'd be shocked if we found something like that. All I really came for was some personal items and an outfit Mark could take to the mortuary."  
  
"There are messages on the answering machine."  
  
"Any threatening ones?" Amanda asked only half serious.  
  
Officer Turner hit the play button. The first message was from Carol's dentist office making an earlier appointment available to her if she wanted it. The second was from a college counselor telling her a nursing ethics class wouldn't be offered during the summer. The last was from a coworker.  
  
"Hey Carol, this is Tammy. I thought I might catch you before you left for California but evidently you've gone already. I just wanted to thank you for covering for me yesterday. I know you had stuff to do to get ready for your trip so I really appreciate it. My mom is off the vent now and things are looking up. She might even be home by the time you get back. Thanks again!"  
  
The machine clicked off. "Nothing even remotely threatening there - " Officer Turner held a finger to her lips stopping Amanda in the middle of her sentence. "Do you hear that?"  
  
Only then did Amanda hear what had caught the policewoman's attention. Someone was outside Carol's apartment. The sound of keys fumbling in the lock was very distinct.  
  
"Mr. Lewis would knock," Amanda whispered.  
  
Officer Turner nodded. "Didn't you say the LAPD hadn't recovered a key ring yet?"  
  
Amanda's gaze flew to meet that of Officer Turner. She didn't have to be a mind reader to know what the policewoman was thinking. Carol's murderer was presumably in possession of both her keys and her address. It wouldn't be the first time a criminal had robbed a victim's residence.  
  
"Go in to the bathroom," Officer Turner told Amanda. "Get down behind the door and don't come out until I say it's okay." Even as she spoke she was taking her service revolver from its holster.  
  
Quickly Amanda did as she was told. From her position behind the door, she could hear Officer Turner say in a calm, even voice, "This is the Portland PD. Slowly push the door open and keep your hands in front of you where I can see them."  
  
"What's going on?" a new female voice asked.  
  
"I know you're not the person who lives here. Who are you and what are you doing here?"  
  
"My name is Dawn Meyer and I came to feed Carol's fish while she's on vacation. My driver's license and clinic badge are in my purse," she added nervously.  
  
Amanda heard nothing for the next several seconds and she assumed Officer Turner was reviewing the woman's identification. "So you work with Carol Hilton?"  
  
"Carol's a nurse and I'm one of the aides."  
  
Apparently Officer Turner was satisfied. "It's okay, Doctor Bentley. You can come out now."  
  
Dawn gasped in surprise as Amanda emerged from the bathroom. "I don't understand. Why are you in Carol's apartment? Has she been robbed?"  
  
Officer Turner introduced herself and Amanda. "Doctor Bentley is with the LA County Medical Examiner's Office."  
  
"The M.E.'s Office?" Amanda nodded. "Did something happen to Carol?"  
  
Amanda invited Dawn to sit down. She hadn't bargained on having to break the sad news of Carol's death to one of her coworkers. Once they were comfortable, Amanda gently told the young woman about Carol's murder. Dawn sat in stunned silence for a moment before the tears began rolling down her face. Amanda sat next to her feeling as helpless as she had the night Mark and Steve had been in her office. Slowly, the tears stopped and Dawn blew her nose.  
  
"I just can't believe it," Dawn murmured.  
  
"Carol's dad and brother are still in shock, too."  
  
"Officer Turner?" A new, male voice spoke from the doorway. "Are you in there?"  
  
"Detective Bryton." The policewoman immediately realized how the open door must look to the senior officer. "Come in. Everything's okay."  
  
The detective was returning his gun to its holster as he stepped inside the apartment. "What's going on?"  
  
Officer Turner made the introductions. Briefly she explained how the door had come to be left open. "Then we just forgot to close it again."  
  
Detective Bryton nodded, indicating the subject was dropped. "I stopped at the clinic on my way from the crime scene I was at. I talked to most of your coworkers already Ms. Meyer and I have just a few questions for you if you're feeling up to it."  
  
"I don't know what I can tell you," Dawn said, "but I'll help however I can."  
  
While Detective Bryton questioned Dawn, Amanda moved into the bedroom. It was decorated in cheerful blues and yellows giving the room the appearance of being larger than it really was. What caught her attention, however, were two framed snapshots on the bedside table. One was of Mark, Katherine, Steve and Carol that she had seen on display in Steve's apartment. The other was of Mark, Steve and Carol that Norman Briggs had taken the first Christmas Carol had returned to California. Amanda could still remember how happy Mark had been to finally make peace with his daughter.  
  
"Carol was so proud of her father and brother."  
  
Amanda turned to face Dawn. "And they were so proud of her," she replied softly. "They worried and they hovered, and I know it drove Carol nuts, but they only did it because they loved her so much and wanted nothing but the best for her."  
  
"Have you found an outfit for Carol yet?"  
  
Amanda shook her head. "I think I'm afraid to open the closet."  
  
Dawn walked across the room and opened the closet. Searching among the items, she pulled out several articles of clothing. She held them up for Amanda to see.  
  
"These were some of Carol's favorites."  
  
Amanda looked at the skirts, blouses and suit Dawn had chosen. "Thank you. This helps me out a lot knowing I've got some things she really liked."  
  
Dawn hung the clothes in the garment bag Amanda had brought along while Amanda collected shoes, underclothes and jewelry. In a matter of minutes the task was completed and they returned to the living room where Detective Bryton and Officer Turner were waiting.  
  
"Did you get everything you need?" Officer Turner asked.  
  
Amanda nodded. "With Dawn's help."  
  
"They'll be expecting me at the clinic," Dawn said. "Would it be okay if I took the fish with me? That way I don't have to stop by everyday and maybe I can find him a permanent home."  
  
"Sure," said Detective Bryton. "Technically this isn't a crime scene so it's okay to remove things."  
  
Dawn gathered the fish bowl and its few supplies and left. Amanda turned to face the detective. "You said you stopped at the clinic. Did you find out anything?"  
  
"Just that Carol was well liked by everyone, patients and staff. No one knew of anyone who'd been hassling her or following her."  
  
"I guess the hardest part of all this is that it's becoming more and more likely that Carol's murder was totally random. That makes it all the more senseless and tragic."  
  
"I talked to Detective Lopez again this morning and she said they're looking at recent parolees who might have a grudge against either Doctor Sloan or Lieutenant Sloan. However, from what I gathered from the conversation is that very few people even knew Carol existed. That makes it unlikely she was targeted as part of a revenge plot against the Sloan's unless someone did some digging into their background."  
  
After a quick lunch, Amanda had Officer Turner drop her back at the airport. She was anxious to return to California and to Mark and Steve. Luck was with her and the flight took off on schedule. Once on the ground in LA, Amanda grabbed a taxi and gave the driver the address to the beach house in Malibu.  
  
**********  
  
Steve turned on the hose and gave the tender plants some water. For as long as he could remember, flowers had filled the beds in the front of the house even though they rarely saw them. Steve had asked his mom about that one time and she'd told him that, even though they didn't see the flowers very often, their neighbors enjoyed them every day. That first spring after her death and Carol's disappearance the flower beds had remained empty into late spring until one day when Steve had impulsively decided to stop at the greenhouse. When he got there, he'd been surprised to find his father already there picking out flowers. Since then, they'd always set aside one day every spring when they would go to the greenhouse together and get the plants they needed and put them in the ground. This year they had even gone a few days early so the plants would be in the ground when Carol arrived.  
  
Squinting against the bright sunlight, Steve watched as a taxi drove slowly down the street. They didn't get many taxis this close to the beach and he wondered if the driver was lost. He watched with surprise as it stopped in front of his house. He was truly puzzled when he saw Amanda get out carrying a garment bag. She paid the driver then walked across the lawn toward Steve.  
  
"Going somewhere?"  
  
Amanda could see the lines of stress and grief etched on Steve's face. She kissed his cheek. "Where's Mark?"  
  
"Inside, lying down. We just got back from the.from making the arrangements a little while ago. Why?"  
  
"I have something for you both. Come on."  
  
Mark was staring at the ceiling when Steve and Amanda entered the master bedroom. Slowly he pulled himself into a sitting position. Amanda laid the garment bag at the foot of the bed and sat down next to Mark.  
  
"Are you going somewhere?" Mark asked, unconsciously echoing his son.  
  
"No, actually I just got back. I flew to Portland this morning."  
  
"What?"  
  
Briefly Amanda told them about her trip. She described Carol's little apartment, the friendly apartment manager and how she had met one of Carol's coworkers. Then she put the bag in Mark's hands.  
  
"But this is really why I went."  
  
Mark pulled at the zipper and pushed the sides open to reveal the clothes inside. Steve could see his dad's hands shake as he touched the top item. His own throat tightened and he swallowed hard.  
  
"Amanda, you didn't have to."  
  
"I know I didn't have to," she interrupted, "but I wanted to. According to Dawn, the friend I met, these were some of Carol's favorites. I brought them all so you could pick what you liked."  
  
"Thank you, Amanda." Mark's voice shook slightly with emotion. "Steve and I even stopped at the mall after we left the mortuary, but we just couldn't.it was too overwhelming and we left."  
  
"Thank you, Amanda." Steve echoed in relief.  
  
Amanda squeezed Steve's hand. "You both are very welcome." She rose from the bed. "Now, how about a little something to eat?"  
  
It took a little coaxing but Amanda got father and son to eat some soup that a neighbor had sent over. Steve offered to drive her home, but Jesse arrived just as they were getting ready to leave. That morning he had promised Amanda he'd check on their friends while she spent the day in Portland, but this was the first opportunity he'd had to get away from the hospital. Discreetly he studied Mark and Steve. They both looked drawn and tired and he wondered if they were sleeping. He offered them another sedative but wasn't surprised when they both adamantly refused it. Satisfied they'd done what they could for the moment, Jesse and Amanda left. 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6  
  
Amanda glanced at the clock and shoved another file into the drawer. She figured she had time to file another half a dozen charts before Jesse arrived and they left for Carol's funeral. Amanda had just picked up another folder when a knock sounded on her office door. Turning, she saw an unfamiliar woman standing at the door. Amanda motioned for her to come in.  
  
"I'm sorry to bother you," the woman said, stepping inside, "but the receptionist was gone. Are you Doctor Amanda Bentley?"  
  
"Yes, I am."  
  
"I'm Doctor Trisha Ferguson from St. Elizabeth's Clinic in Portland."  
  
"It's so nice to meet you. I can only imagine what a difficult time the past few days has been for you and your staff."  
  
Trisha nodded. "The whole world has seemed a little off kilter since Detective Bryton visited. And then Dawn coming in. We can't imagine anyone who would do this to Carol. She was well liked by the staff and the patients loved her. Do the police have any leads?"  
  
"Nothing substantial. They found Carol's car finally. The prints were smudged and they're not sure if they belong to the murderer or someone different altogether since the car was stripped by the time they found it."  
  
"What about her purse? Dawn said that hadn't been recovered."  
  
"It's still missing, but the police have traced her credit cards. They discovered she stopped about four hours north of LA and bought a couple of books. That's probably also when she called Mark to let him know when she'd arrive. Then closer to LA she stopped for gas and at an ATM. We don't know if she needed more cash or if by this point she was being forced by someone to withdraw the money."  
  
"Wouldn't there be a camera at the ATM?"  
  
"Normally yes, but this one was inside a convenience store so a camera was never installed. And the store cameras didn't give a clear shot of the machine."  
  
"Amanda? Are you ready?" Jesse entered the path lab.  
  
"As ready as I'll ever be." Amanda introduced Jesse to Carol's coworker. "Would you like to ride with us?"  
  
Trisha hesitated. "I don't want to intrude."  
  
"You wouldn't be," Jesse assured her. "I'm sure Mark and Steve will be anxious to meet you and talk to you. They seem to want to talk about Carol, but it's hard for us because we didn't know her well."  
  
"How are Doctor Sloan and Lieutenant Sloan?"  
  
Jesse and Amanda exchanged a glance. On the drive to Amanda's from the beach house two nights before, they had discussed this very topic. They both had been concerned that Mark and Steve weren't taking care of themselves.  
  
"They're.struggling. As you probably know, they didn't see much of Carol, but that didn't mean they didn't love her. Just the opposite. There wasn't anything they wouldn't do for her. I think they're still in shock."  
  
"I'm more worried about Steve than Mark," Amanda admitted. "He's an intensely private person, not one to let what he's feeling show. I'm really afraid he'll keep everything inside and not let anyone support him."  
  
"He's got Mark," Jesse said confidently. "They've seen tough times before and have always gotten through them together."  
  
"I know, Jesse, but I'm still worried. Steve always thinks he has to be the strong one and go it alone, but we wouldn't think any less of him if he'd ask to lean on one of us. It would be nice to be able to be there for him like he's always been there for us."  
  
A short while later Trisha Ferguson silently agreed with Amanda's assessment. As soon as the funeral had ended, Jesse had brought her forward to meet Carol's father and brother. They both had been kind and gracious and, as Jesse had suspected, eager to talk about Carol. However, just below the surface Trisha could see the strain especially in Steve. She wished she could be as confident as Jesse that Mark and Steve would mourn and heal together, but already they seemed to be at different places in the process.  
  
"Thank you so much for being here," Mark was saying. "You have no idea what this means to us."  
  
Trisha returned her attention to Mark. "All of our staff and even some of our patients would've come if we could've figured out a way to get everyone here. Carol was loved because she was so loving. She made everyone feel very comfortable." She paused. "We wanted to do something in her memory so our donation has gone to a domestic violence shelter in Portland. It was one of her favorite causes."  
  
"Thank you. That was very generous."  
  
"We're also going to have a memorial service tomorrow night. It was the idea of St. Elizabeth's parish priest. He suggested it as a way to bring a sense of closure for some people and I agreed."  
  
"Would you mind if we came?"  
  
Trisha was taken aback. "No, not at all, but I didn't mention it so you'd feel obligated to come."  
  
"In many ways Carol was almost like a stranger to us. This will give us a chance to get to know her better won't it, Steve?"  
  
Steve shook his head. "Dad, I'm not sure."  
  
Mark turned to his son. "Don't you want to meet some of the people who knew your sister? Knew her better than we did?"  
  
Jesse wasn't positive but he could've sworn he saw Steve wince at Mark's words. Mark didn't seem to notice. "Okay, Dad," Steve said reluctantly.  
  
The issue settled to Mark's satisfaction, he turned back to Trisha. She told him to call her at the clinic when they knew what time they'd arrive so she could pick them up at the airport. She also promised to get the key to Carol's apartment from Dawn so they could stay there if they wanted. Steve, meanwhile, seemed to retreat further into himself only nodding occasionally when something was said.  
  
Jesse pulled Steve aside as Amanda and Trisha headed for the car. "Are you okay?"  
  
Steve shook himself out of his lethargy. "Sure," he told Jesse. "It's just been a rough few days, you know?" Jesses nodded. "See you back at the house?"  
  
"After we drop Trisha at the hospital. She left her rental car there and has to get back to the airport."  
  
For the rest of the afternoon, Jesse covertly watched Steve. He kept thinking back to Amanda's statement about how Steve typically kept his emotions locked inside and wondered if he'd been too optimistic in predicting that Mark and Steve would weather this tragedy together. Thinking back over the past few days, Jesse could only recall a few times when he'd seen father and son together and even then they'd only spoken a few words to each other. At the time Jesse had chalked it up to the fact that with their relationship few words were needed between the two men. Now he wasn't so sure. When Steve slipped out to the deck, Jesse followed.  
  
For a few minutes, Jesse just enjoyed the spring breeze and the brilliant sunset. Finally, while still gazing at the ocean, he began to speak.  
  
"Being an only child, I know I can't even begin to understand the pain you're feeling right now and that makes me feel so helpless. You're my best friend and I don't know what to do or say to ease that pain except to let you know I'm here for you. And so is Amanda. Don't shut us out, Steve. You don't have to carry the whole load by yourself. We don't care if you're not always strong. You're only human and we want to help you if you'll let us."  
  
Steve continued to stare stoically at the ocean giving no indication he'd even heard Jesse. Frustrated, but unwilling to let his friend know it, Jesse turned to go back inside.  
  
"Jess?" Steve's voice came suddenly.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"For not knowing what to say, you said a lot, and I appreciate it. Thanks."  
  
His heart feeling lighter than it had in several days, Jesse merely nodded and slipped inside to share his success with Amanda. 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7  
  
"I'm glad we came," Mark said, as he closed and locked the door to Carol's apartment.  
  
Steve nodded, surprised to discover he agreed with his father. He had spent a sleepless night wondering if he could sit through yet another service, one that promised to be more emotional since these were the people Carol had interacted with almost on a daily basis. Finally around dawn, he had decided he owed it to his sister as well as to the people who had known and loved her to participate.  
  
"I know you didn't really want to come," Mark was saying, "but it meant a lot to have you sitting next to me."  
  
How does he do that? Steve thought. Out loud he said, "I never said anything about not wanting to come."  
  
"Steve, I could see your reluctance the minute Trisha brought it up."  
  
Uncomfortable his father could read him so accurately, Steve broke eye contact. His gaze slid to a worn teddy bear sitting in the rocking chair. It looked so out of place in the otherwise neat living room it had caught his attention almost immediately after they had arrived at Carol's apartment a few hours earlier. Trisha had noticed his interest and commented on it.  
  
"Willie kind of sticks out like a sore thumb doesn't he?" she'd asked. "I never could figure out Carol's attraction to that bear. Sure he must've been cute when he was new, but he's so worn out now. One night when I was here, she was stitching up one of the seams. I laughingly suggested that maybe it was time for her to give up on old Willie. You would've thought I told her to pitch the original Mona Lisa. She let me know in no uncertain terms that Willie was with her for the long haul and that for a while he was the only guy she felt she could count on. Then she made some cryptic comment about Willie always having a hug for her and chasing away her nightmares."  
  
"Steve?"  
  
Mark's voice broke into Steve's thoughts. From his tone, Steve figured it wasn't the first time his dad had spoken his name.  
  
"Yeah, Dad?"  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
"Sure, Dad."  
  
"It's just that.well, you seem preoccupied with that bear. I noticed you looking at it when we got here and you were just staring at it again." Mark looked at Steve curiously. "Do you know why it was so important to Carol? Do you know who gave it to her?" "I can't believe she kept it all these years," Steve said, almost to himself. Turning to his dad, he said quietly, "I gave it to her. The day I left for Vietnam." He sighed. "She was almost too old for it, but I saw it in the store window and had to get it for her. Too old for stuffed animals yet too young to understand why I had to go. Anyway when I gave her the bear, and you have to remember we got along much better then, I told her that while I was gone Willie would protect her and chase away her nightmares and no matter where I went or what happened to me all she'd have to do is look at Willie to know how much I loved her. I told her that I made sure he was filled with an endless supply of hugs so that whenever she needed one he'd always have one for her and it would be like getting it from me." Steve's voice broke on the last two words.  
  
Mark squeezed his son's shoulder gently. "It certainly looks like she hugged him an awful lot."  
  
"You know that I loved her, don't you Dad? That I would've done anything to prevent this?"  
  
Mark was shocked by Steve's feelings of guilt. As far as he was concerned, Steve had nothing to feel guilty about. "Of course I know you loved your sister. What makes you think I'd doubt that?"  
  
"We had our share of problems, Carol and I, but we were working on them. You never said anything, but I know you were disappointed about our falling out, and I was hoping that we'd get a chance on this visit to talk some more and finally make things right."  
  
"Steve." Mark's voice was firm. "You weren't the only one to blame for Carol's leaving all those years ago. I played a part in that too, but she came back eventually. When she felt she had nowhere else to turn she came to us and let us help her." His voice softened. "I never doubted your love for Carol, knew you never stopped loving her even when you were so mad at her. And I know you would've done whatever it took to protect her from this. Sometimes, though, we just don't get that chance and we have to try and find a way to live with that."  
  
Sighing, Steve reached out and gently touched Willie's face. "Thanks, Dad."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For." he paused and smiled slightly, "everything," he finished simply.  
  
**************  
  
Steve woke with a start, his heavy breathing the only sound in his quiet apartment. The nightmare was so real it took a few moments for him to shake off the last vestiges of it. At least Steve didn't hear his dad's footsteps coming to check on him. The first time he'd had the nightmare Mark had been in the kitchen making himself some warm milk when he'd heard Steve cry out. Bursting into the bedroom, he'd found his son shaking and drenched in sweat. Steve had downplayed the incident and sent his dad back to bed. The next night Steve had fallen asleep on the sofa upstairs. Mark again had come on the run when he'd heard Steve thrashing and moaning. Steve had avoided talking about it by claiming he didn't remember what the dream was about. Now each night before he went to sleep Steve made sure his door was tightly shut so his dad wouldn't hear his cries when the dream inevitably returned to haunt his sleep.  
  
Looking at the clock, Steve discovered he'd been asleep longer than usual before being awakened by the reoccurring dream. Still, from past experience he knew there'd be no more sleep this night. Sighing, he untangled his long legs from the twisted sheets and got up.  
  
A couple of hours later Steve was on the deck having a cup of coffee and watching the sun rise when Mark came out of the house. He, too, had a cup of coffee in his hand.  
  
"You're up early."  
  
"Couldn't sleep."  
  
"Any particular reason?"  
  
Steve sensed Mark was fishing for information. Not for the first time he debated about telling him about his nightmare but like every other time decided against it. He simply couldn't share the details with his father. Steve had asked Emma to let him know if his dad ever wanted to see the crime scene photos and she had promised to let him know if Mark ever asked her for them. So far he hadn't asked to see them, and Steve knew he could never willingly subject his father to the horror in words or pictures of how Carol had looked in that alley if he could avoid it.  
  
"So any particular reason for you not being able to sleep?" Mark repeated.  
  
"Probably the same as you, Dad. It's been a horrible couple of weeks, lots of questions and not enough answers." Steve paused and gazed at the horizon. "And I talked to Captain Newman about going back to work."  
  
"So soon?" The words slipped from Mark's mouth.  
  
"It's been two weeks. By the time I actually get on the duty roster it'll be almost three, and I have a feeling I'll have to ride a desk for a couple of days once I get back."  
  
"But are you."  
  
"Ready? That I won't know until I go back to work. I need to go back. I can't hide here forever. Neither can you. We need to try and pick up the pieces and move ahead."  
  
"Will you be able to get time off to go back to Portland?"  
  
They still had to face the task of sorting and packing Carol's apartment. Trisha Ferguson had volunteered to do it for them but Mark had refused. As much as it would hurt, he needed to be the one who boxed up his daughter's belongings. Martin Lewis had accepted another month's rent to give them some additional time, but within a few weeks he and Steve would have to return and close out Carol's life. "I told Captain Newman about it and he said it shouldn't be a problem."  
  
"You'll level with Newman if you get out there and find it's too soon?"  
  
"Dad - "  
  
"Promise me you'll tell him if you can't do it. You need to be sharp and not distracted when you're on the street."  
  
Steve thought his dad was hovering a little more than normal but then figured he probably had a right to since he'd just buried one child and had no desire to do it again. He didn't want to be the cause of more stress for his father.  
  
"I will, Dad. I promise."  
  
"You want some breakfast?"  
  
Steve's stomach churned at the thought of food. "You go ahead. I'm going for a swim first. If I want anything later, I'll help myself."  
  
Mark nodded distractedly. He kept getting the feeling Steve had something on his mind or was holding something back from him and hoped his son would eventually share what was troubling him. Normally he would've pressed Steve to open up but, as selfish as it seemed, Mark didn't know if he was emotionally capable of providing counsel and support right now. He was still reeling from the events of the past two weeks including the intense media coverage surrounding Carol's murder. Despite all the stories and pleas for information, the police had turned up very few useful leads to help them catch her killer.  
  
Mark sifted through the envelopes on his desk. Sympathy cards and notes of condolence were still arriving. Mixed in with those however were bills and other official papers forwarded to him from Carol's apartment. Before leaving Portland they had canceled the newspaper and disconnected the phone and cable, but now Mark was dealing with insurance policies and bank statements. The Portland police had assisted the LAPD in getting Carol's credit cards canceled in the hours after her body had been discovered in case the murderer had had any ideas of trying to use them so Mark had been spared having to explain to those companies why he was closing the accounts. He had lost count of the number of times he'd had to tell his story to an impersonal voice at the other end of the phone only to be transferred to someone else where he'd have to start at the beginning. It was a frustrating and oftentimes painful process.  
  
Looking at the clock, Mark realized it was nearly lunchtime. He also realized he hadn't seen Steve since their early morning chat on the deck. Descending the stairs to Steve's apartment, he was surprised to find it deserted and the truck missing from its usual spot in the driveway. Mark frowned. It wasn't like Steve to take off without telling him or at the very least leaving a note. He decided to wait a while to see if Steve called and, if he didn't, he'd try paging him.  
  
Mark didn't have to wait long. While he was picking at the lunch he'd made for himself, the phone rang. Grabbing it, he was relieved to hear Steve's voice on the other end.  
  
"You left without telling me." Mark winced at the accusatory tone in his voice.  
  
Either Steve didn't pick up on it or he chose to ignore it. "I took off in a hurry. Manny called from the restaurant and was having plumbing problems."  
  
"When will you be home?"  
  
"Not 'til late. I told Jesse I'd close for him. Don't wait up. Talk to you later."  
  
Mark barely had a chance to say good-bye before hearing the dial tone. He sighed and slowly hung up the phone. Steve had sound distracted during their quick conversation but Mark attributed that to the plumbing problems rather than to the events of the past couple of weeks. He sighed again. Maybe Steve was right to consider going back to work. Withdrawing inside the beach house had accomplished nothing but increasing the amount of time available to dwell on Carol's death. Dumping what was left of his lunch, Mark went over to his computer. He could at least check his hospital email and start trying to figure out what had been going on during his absence. He also decided to talk to the medical school dean about returning to some of his classes. The students were challenging and would help sharpen instincts that had been dulled by pain and grief. Mark wasn't sure, however, if he was ready to see patients yet. Sometimes it could be emotionally draining treating and counseling patients, and he didn't want to short change them by not being totally focused on what he was doing.  
  
The next morning while Mark was on the deck reading the paper the phone rang. It was Captain Newman looking for Steve.  
  
"He's out for a run. Can I give him a message?"  
  
"Just have him call me. I wanted to let him know he's back on the duty roster."  
  
Mark's heart skipped a beat. Not a day went by that he didn't worry about something happening to Steve while on duty but, for the most part, he'd been able to control the fear rather than it controlling him. Now the worry threatened to overwhelm him. The memory of seeing Carol in the morgue was still too fresh and Mark couldn't even bear the thought of seeing Steve there as well. If Steve would've walked through the door at that moment and announced he was quitting, Mark knew he would've done nothing to try and change his mind.  
  
"I'll give him the message."  
  
Captain Newman seemed to sense Mark's reluctance. "I'll ease him back into duty if that's what you're worried about. I'm planning on having him ride with Emma for a couple of days." Mark breathed a silent sigh of relief. "Thanks," he said gratefully.  
  
When Steve returned after his run, Mark told him about Captain Newman's call. Nodding, he headed downstairs. When he returned a short time later, his hair was still damp from the shower and he was dressed for the restaurant. Mark though he looked tired but clamped his lips shut to prevent a comment from slipping out.  
  
"I didn't hear you come in last night."  
  
"It was late. I started the inventory after we closed. Hopefully I'll get it done so Manny and Jesse won't have to do it this weekend."  
  
"When does Captain Newman want you back to work?"  
  
"Sunday afternoon. Emma's pulling weekend duty and he wants me to stick with her for a couple of days."  
  
"I called Emma this morning. To see if there'd been any progress."  
  
Steve smothered a flash of irritation. "Dad, Emma will call if anything breaks."  
  
"I know but people get busy. It might slip her mind."  
  
"I doubt it. Let her do her job. She doesn't need you checking up on her."  
  
"Is that what you think I'm doing? Is that what Emma thinks?"  
  
"No!" Steve's tone was sharp.  
  
"Then what? I have a right to call the detective investigating my daughter's murder and ask for an update."  
  
"And all I'm saying is that Emma will share what she finds out without us having to ask her." Steve took a deep breath to reign in his temper. "Look Dad, I'd love to stay and discuss this with you but I have to go."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Bob's. The order is due, I want to finish the inventory and I have to close."  
  
"Again?"  
  
"Manny wanted the night off and Jesse has a shift at the hospital." Steve grabbed his jacket. "I'm sure it'll be late. Don't wait up for me."  
  
Watching his son pull out of the driveway, Mark still couldn't shake the feeling Steve was hiding something from him. He hoped it was nothing serious. He also hoped whatever it was wouldn't distract Steve when he returned to duty in just three short days. 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8  
  
Sunday afternoon Steve walked into the precinct for the first time since he'd answered the call that had brought him face to face with his sister's body. Only a few officers and detectives were on duty but those who were around greeted him warmly. He accepted their expressions of sympathy marveling again at their determination to find the person responsible for Carol's murder. From the moment they had found out that the victim had been related to one of their own, they hadn't hesitated to chase down every tip or put the squeeze on any of their informants in the quest for information.  
  
Steve was surveying his cluttered desk when Emma walked in. "It's probably eligible to be a disaster site," she teased.  
  
"I wish I could just shovel it all into a trash can," he said, scanning some of the papers, "but I can't remember what's here that actually might be important."  
  
"Well when you're tired of sorting, I have reports you can fill out or a stack of filing you can tackle."  
  
Steve shot his temporary partner a disgusted look and Emma smiled knowing how much Steve hated the paperwork that went along with the job. Pulling a recycle bin close, he began his clean-up project by pitching various outdated memos and flyers, an old newspaper, and several pieces of junk mail. He'd just started on a stack of his own filing when Emma hung up the phone and told him they needed to report to a crime scene.  
  
"So much for a quiet Sunday," Steve commented, setting the filing aside.  
  
On the drive, Emma gave Steve the few details she had. The victim was a female in her late 20's or early 30's. She'd been discovered by her roommate who was returning from spending the weekend at her parents' house. According to the first officers on the scene, there was no sign of forced entry or a struggle.  
  
Steve pulled on a pair of latex gloves. "Let's go take a look."  
  
Emma nodded and led the way into the apartment. A female Steve assumed to be the roommate was being tended to by a pair of EMTs in the living room. In the bedroom, the crime scene unit was just starting to set up their equipment. As he approached the door, Steve could see the victim prone on the bed. An image of Carol flashed into his mind as she'd been that day in the alley. Shaking his head to clear it, he took a couple of fortifying breaths and entered the room.  
  
"Nice and neat," the medical examiner commented. "Looks like one slit from a knife and it got the windpipe and carotid artery. She didn't stand a chance."  
  
"Any sign she put up a fight?"  
  
"Nothing obvious, but we'll check for skin under her fingernails and all the usual stuff." The senselessness and brutality of the crime angered Steve. Another family was going to have their world rocked by the arrival of police officers on their doorstep. He didn't have to imagine what the trip to the morgue would be like to identify the body. After snapping off a series of instructions for the crime scene unit, he stripped off his gloves and strode from the room.  
  
Emma stayed long enough to make sure the technicians got started and then went looking for Steve. She found him outside staring moodily into space.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
"I'm fine," he snapped.  
  
"Reign in that temper, Lieutenant." Emma spoke sharply. "We're both on the same side here."  
  
"And that would be the losing side, right?" Steve shook his head impatiently. "Are the criminals getting smarter or are we just getting dumber?"  
  
"That's enough! If you can't keep it professional, then I don't want you here. And if you think I'll cover your butt, think again. I won't hesitate to go to Newman if you can't keep it together."  
  
Steve didn't doubt Emma for a minute. He knew he'd been out of line in there and regretted his loss of control. Taking a few deep breaths, he fought to bank his anger. Emma was right. They were both working toward a common goal and he wasn't helping matters by snapping at the people around him.  
  
"You're right. I'm sorry." Steve refused to make excuses for his behavior. "It won't happen again."  
  
Emma relaxed. Steve was one of the best cops she'd ever worked with. If he said it wouldn't happen again then she believed him. Still a part of her could understand his reaction. It couldn't have been easy to walk into that crime scene with the memory of his sister so fresh in his mind. The fact that the victim was female probably hadn't made the situation any easier. Emma silently cursed the fates that had dropped this particular case in their laps. They couldn't return it however, and the murder still had to be investigated.  
  
"Alright." Emma nodded. "Then let's get back to work. I'll take the roommate's statement and you can go door to door."  
  
"And I'll be done before you," Steve predicted as he reentered the building to begin the tedious job of trying to find someone who had seen or heard anything irregular or suspicious around the time of the murder.  
  
**************  
  
"Have you seen Steve lately?" Jesse grimaced at Amanda's seemingly innocent question. "A couple of nights ago at Bob's. Why?"  
  
"How did he seem to you?"  
  
"He wasn't his usual effervescent self," Jesse replied, sarcastically.  
  
"Jesse, stop," Amanda pleaded. "I'm serious. I want to know if you're seeing the same things I'm seeing."  
  
"You mean the weight loss, haunted expression and exhaustion?"  
  
"Well, yes, those too, but I was thinking more about his emotional behavior. Do you think he's withdrawing?"  
  
"You know Steve is pretty reserved when it comes to his feelings, Amanda. He keeps a lot of stuff to himself."  
  
"I know but, lately, he's changed. Right after Carol's murder, he was so angry. Even small things set him off. Remember the screwed up order at the restaurant and the misfiled case reports in the lab? For weeks my staff cringed and ran the other way when he stopped by for a report. They didn't want to deal with him. But lately.he barely speaks to anyone and won't make eye contact when he does say something. It's almost as if he's given up."  
  
"Given up? I don't think so. He's closed five cases since he went back to work. A couple of them were stone cold and he cracked them wide open."  
  
"He's burying himself in his work, he's drifting away from us, he's obviously not eating or sleeping very well," Amanda paused then added quietly, "and he and Mark have been arguing."  
  
That got Jesse's attention. "How do you know that?"  
  
"I overheard them in Mark's office a couple of weeks ago."  
  
"And you never told me?"  
  
"It was awful, Jesse. I've never heard Steve and Mark raise their voices to each other. Sure they've had disagreements, usually over a case, but this was different. They were really going at each other."  
  
Jesse was stunned. Steve and Mark had the relationship he could only dream about having with his own dad. "What were they arguing about?"  
  
"The progress, or more accurately, the lack of progress on Carol's case. It sounded like Mark's been calling Emma for updates because Steve said something about Mark making a nuisance of himself and that Emma would let them know if she uncovered something significant." "How did Mark take that?"  
  
"Not very well. Mark then reminded Steve that if it hadn't been for his behavior driving Carol away in the first place, she probably wouldn't have been living so far from home and having to travel for a visit."  
  
"What?!" Jesse exclaimed. "Mark has always said that he and Steve share responsibility for the problems they had with Carol. Why would he say that to Steve now? It doesn't make any sense."  
  
"Probably because he's hurting and angry and not thinking straight. Unfortunately, I don't think it's the first time he's said it either. Steve said something about not ever letting him forget about his poor relationship with Carol and that the last thing he needed was Mark dumping more guilt on him."  
  
Jesse exhaled loudly. "Was that it?"  
  
Amanda nodded. "Steve stormed out after that. I barely had enough time to duck back out into the hallway, but I'm pretty sure Steve never even noticed I was there. I waited a little while then went back to see Mark. I could tell the argument had bothered him but I pretended I hadn't heard anything and asked him what was wrong. He tried to pass it off by saying Steve had accused him of hovering too much and always checking up on him. I just let it drop because I couldn't say anything without admitting I'd overheard them."  
  
"Well, I don't know about lately, but right after Steve went back to work, Mark was hovering more than normal. I even heard Steve tell Mark to just give him some space. Mark was really flipped out about the possibility of Steve being hurt or worse. He's always managed to control his worry and not let it get the best of him, but I'm sure the thought of possibly burying both his children has been on his mind."  
  
"Jesse, what's going on? All of a sudden nothing's normal anymore."  
  
"I know what you mean. They're barely speaking to each other. If Steve isn't at the precinct, he's at the restaurant. It's almost as if he's avoiding Mark." Jesse paused. "I don't want to imply that one is more at fault than the other for what's going on right now, but do you get the feeling a lot of this.this," Jesse struggled to find the right word, "tension, I guess is what it is, is coming from Steve?"  
  
Amanda nodded slowly. "They both seemed to make some initial progress in moving forward after Carol's death, but I really think Mark has been more successful. And that's a little surprising since you might expect a parent to grieve more deeply than a sibling."  
  
"Of course there is no right or wrong way to grieve, but I understand what you're saying. We're more familiar with parental grief with all the books and research done on it. How much have you read on sibling grief? And male sibling grief on top of that? And consider too that Steve probably wouldn't fit any mold or pattern researchers came up with. He holds too much inside especially his feelings, but he has a huge capacity for love and when he does let go and opens his heart, he loves totally and completely which makes a loss all the more painful for him. Am I making any sense here?"  
  
"Oddly enough, yes," Amanda assured him, "but it still doesn't help us figure out how to right the relationship between Mark and Steve."  
  
"Or more importantly help us figure out what's stressing Steve out. I'm sure he's the key to all this. It's almost as if he's reached a plateau in his grieving and can't figure out how to move forward again. He almost seemed to be coping better right after it happened than he is now"  
  
"Mark could be afraid of losing Steve either physically, emotionally or both. We know how he's always worried about Steve on the job."  
  
Nodding, Jesse said, "The mob shooting and that staph infection were hard on Mark. Those were too close for comfort for him."  
  
"Mark has always been pretty sensitive to Steve's moods, too. If he knows Steve is upset and can't figure out why, that's going to bother him. And if Steve won't confide in him, that'll make the situation worse. Maybe that's why Mark's lashing out because he's worried. It's typical of Steve to withdraw from us and into himself if he's hiding something or keeping something to himself. Combine that with the stress of having to clean out Carol's apartment and the police not being able to find her killer and we've got the potential for a major clash between two strong willed individuals."  
  
Jesse shuddered. "That's not a pretty thought."  
  
"No it's not." Amanda squared her shoulders in determination. "So do you want to talk to Steve or should I?"  
  
"Be my guest. I have no desire to have my head snapped off."  
  
Amanda didn't exactly relish the thought of having this conversation with Steve either, but she was willing to do it if it would help bring Steve and Mark back together. "We've been invited for dinner on Saturday. I'll try to get Steve alone then," she decided. 


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9  
  
Mark folded the letter he'd been reading and removed his glasses with hands that weren't quite steady. He drew a calming breath and pushed his chair away from his desk. As he rose, his stiff joints protested, and Mark thought again about how much he'd aged in the weeks since Carol's death. Intellectually he knew that some of the aches and pains would fade as his grief and depression lightened. However, burying Carol had also made him face his own mortality and the realization that he wasn't getting any younger despite his typically young at heart attitude.  
  
From the kitchen Mark could hear Steve moving around as he prepared the marinade for the meat they'd be putting on the grill later that day. It had been several weeks since Jesse and Amanda had joined him and Steve for a meal. Mark hoped this was a sign that Steve was working through his grief and ready to stop burying himself in his work as a way to try and dull the pain. Mark was concerned about his son. Although Steve had always guarded his emotions quite well, he still couldn't quite shake the feeling that something else, something more than his sister's death, had driven Steve to retreat even deeper into himself than normal.  
  
With Steve's attention focused on what he was doing, Mark took a few moments to observe his son unobtrusively. What he saw disturbed him. Tense shoulder and neck muscles were obvious under the polo shirt Steve wore and he'd lost weight judging by the way the clothes hung on his frame. Mark was also aware Steve wasn't sleeping well. If the lines of exhaustion around his eyes hadn't given it away, Mark knew that between his caseload and the restaurant Steve was barely getting three or four hours of sleep a night. On the rare nights he was home before one or two in the morning, Mark often heard movement from Steve's apartment before dawn.  
  
Steve looked up then as if he'd sensed he was being watched. His expression was guarded and Mark wondered about the cause of it. They were normally very open with each other.  
  
"Need any help?"  
  
"No, I got it. Did you use up the olive oil?"  
  
Mark nodded. "There's a new bottle in the pantry."  
  
"Is Amanda bringing C.J. and Dion?"  
  
"No. They have some sort of skating party to go to for a friend's birthday."  
  
"That sounds like fun. I'll have to talk to Amanda about taking them to the batting cage or something next week. I haven't had much of a chance to spend any time with them lately."  
  
"I'm sure they'd enjoy that." Mark paused and an awkward silence settled between them. He cleared his throat. "I got a letter from the domestic crisis center in Portland today thanking us again for giving them Carol's furniture. They're very grateful."  
  
"I'm glad," Steve said, simply. When Mark and Steve had returned to Portland six weeks after the memorial service, they had faced the almost overwhelming task of cleaning out Carol's apartment. Both men had been uncertain about what to do with all her belongings especially the furniture. They hadn't had the energy to move it all back to Malibu to try and sell, and they hadn't wanted to burden Trisha or one of Carol's other friends with that responsibility either. Finally they had decided to pack up whatever they wanted and give the rest to charity. Mark had asked Trisha to recommend a group who could use the donated items.  
  
Without hesitation, Trisha had suggested a new domestic violence crisis center that had just opened. The executive director was a close friend and Trisha knew the center was still in need of many things that would make it a more comfortable place for the scared women who were fleeing an abusive situation. Steve, thinking of some of the abused women he'd seen during his years as a cop, had immediately agreed to the suggestion. Mark had told Trisha to bring her friend by the apartment and she could pick whatever she wanted.  
  
Hesitantly, as if she couldn't believe her good fortune, the executive director had accepted the living room furniture and most of the bedroom set as well. Steve had boxed up many of the books from Carol's shelves and loaded them on the truck too so the women staying there would have a distraction from their problems if only for a few hours. When Mark had mentioned Carol's clothes hanging in the closet, the young woman had eagerly supplied the name of a clothing bank she often worked with that was always in need of women's clothes. They would be especially glad to receive the skirts and suits, she had told Mark, as they assisted women in transition to get proper clothes for job interviews.  
  
"I'm glad," Steve repeated. "I think Carol would be pleased to know that other women were able to use her things."  
  
"After her experiences with Bruce, she had a real empathy for women in abusive situations. She understood how much courage it took for them to leave."  
  
"At least Carol was smart to get out early. Too many stay because they think he'll change or that somehow magically things will go back to how they used to be."  
  
"That's a hard fantasy for some to give up. And it wasn't always bad for Bruce and Carol," Mark added, thinking of the photo albums he'd found in a closet. "They were happy in the beginning."  
  
Steve's mouth tightened but he said nothing. Even after all these years the mere thought of his sister's husband was enough to make him seethe. Carol had deserved far better than the two bit loser she'd married. As far as Steve was concerned it didn't matter if they were happy in the beginning. It was the end he remembered most clearly. The end in which Bruce Hilton had hit his wife and then had almost gotten her killed because of his blackmail scheme. He'd gotten to Carol in time then. What, Steve wondered, had made this time different? Why hadn't he been able to save her this time?  
  
Having no desire to continue that train of thought even with himself, Steve threw down the sponge he'd been using to wipe the counters. "Everything's under control here so I'm going for a run."  
  
"Don't be gone too long. Jesse and Amanda will be here soon."  
  
Muscles not recently used complained as Steve set a steady pace down the beach. Welcoming the physical pain his run was causing, he hoped it would drive all other thoughts from his mind. Steve knew he desperately needed a respite from the turmoil he'd been in since the evening he'd walked into that alley and realized it was Carol surrounded by all that trash. Sleep failed to provide him with any relief. He was plagued by nightmares of the murder every time he tried to sleep for more than a couple of hours. As a result, he was practically living on catnaps and caffeine. Work wasn't much of a distraction either. Each time he was called to a crime scene or had to face a devastated family, he had to steel himself against the raw pain he felt when emotional wounds that hadn't even started to heal were ripped open yet again.  
  
Steve turned around and headed home. Even though he was rarely in the mood for company these days, he was glad Jesse and Amanda were coming for dinner. It meant he wouldn't have to be alone with his dad for a few hours. For the first time since his rebellious teen years, Steve didn't know what to say to Mark. The situation had become even more awkward after Steve had overheard Mark on the phone telling someone that he'd always lived with the possibility of burying his son, but it had never occurred to him he might outlive his daughter. Steve had winced at the resignation in his dad's voice as Mark had gone on to say that he now feared outliving both his children. As Steve had backed away from the door, Mark's words had echoed through his head and he'd wondered again as he had everyday since Carol's death why it had been her lying in that alley and not him. He was the cop and knew, and accepted, the risks that came with the job including the possibility of his own death.  
  
Sighing, Steve stepped into the shower. Since then, he'd found it easier to try and stay out of Mark's sight. The last thing he wanted was to be a constant reminder to Mark that he was still alive and Carol wasn't. It was also a way to avoid his father's constant hovering and decreased the likelihood they'd have to have a meaningful conversation. They rarely discussed anything more substantial than the day to day grind anymore. If they talked about the case, they always ended up arguing about the lack of progress and Steve felt his guilt increase because he wasn't able to give Mark what he so desperately needed right now - justice and a sense of closure. In addition, he knew his lack of sleep was making him irritable and, at times, downright unpleasant to be around. Rather than subject his friends to that, Steve had started spending less time with them. He had only agreed to today's cookout in an attempt to please his dad. He had originally planned to spend his first day off in weeks alone riding his dirt bike on some trails up the coast.  
  
Pasting on what he hoped was a neutral, if not pleasant, expression Steve went upstairs. He glanced at the clock and pulled the meat from the refrigerator. As he was adjusting the grill, Jesse and Amanda came up the deck steps.  
  
"What? No ribs?" Jesse asked in mock horror.  
  
"Don't listen to him, Steve. Jesse still hasn't learned he shouldn't complain about the menu when he's an invited guest."  
  
"If he doesn't like it, he doesn't have to eat."  
  
"Good point." Amanda shoved the brown paper bag she held into Jesse's hands. "Be a good boy and put the ice cream in the freezer for me."  
  
Knowing Amanda wanted to talk with Steve, Jesse went without complaint. As soon as she heard the door close, Amanda turned to her friend.  
  
"I'm worried about you."  
  
Steve thought about ignoring her but knew Amanda would persist if he put up any protest. Instead he said, "You don't have to be."  
  
Amanda's eyebrows shot up. "I don't? Steve, you're clearly unhappy and under stress. You look like you haven't slept for days. We're seeing less and less of you. Jesse and I are worried."  
  
"Amanda - "  
  
"No. Hear me out. You've always hidden your emotions so I wouldn't expect that to change now and I've always tried to respect your privacy. But you've become so distant and withdrawn lately and that isolation isn't good for you. Now more than ever you need the support of people who love you. There's no shame in admitting you need someone. Talk to us. Tell us what's wrong so - "  
  
"Hi, Amanda."  
  
Amanda nearly groaned out loud. Mark couldn't have picked a worse time to step out onto the deck. She had been so close to breaking through Steve's emotional armor. His eyes, now shuttered again, had been full of pain. Damn! Amanda thought to herself. She shot a look at Jesse and he shrugged helplessly. He evidently had stalled as long as he could, but it hadn't been quite long enough.  
  
After a glance that told Steve their conversation was far from over, Amanda moved away to greet Mark. Steve heaved a silent sigh of relief. Amanda was one of the few people besides his dad who had the ability to break past his defenses, and he'd been very close to breaking down and spilling his guts out to her. Steve shook his head. It wouldn't be fair to burden her with the load he was carrying right now.  
  
As the meat cooked on the grill, the four friends sat around the deck talking and enjoying the sunshine. Jesse could almost fool himself into thinking everything was normal except for an undercurrent of tension between Mark and Steve that he'd never experienced before. It was almost a relief when Steve announced dinner was ready.  
  
Amanda was bringing a fresh pitcher of iced tea from the kitchen when the phone rang. Mark started to get up, but she motioned for him to sit back down and said she'd get it. Returning a moment later, she told Steve it was for him. Excusing himself, he went to take the call.  
  
It seemed to Mark that Steve had been gone a long time and he wondered if it was Emma on the phone with news about Carol's case. Just as Mark decided to go find him, his son returned to the dining room. He frowned when he saw the gun clipped to Steve's belt.  
  
"That was the station. I have to go."  
  
"But it's your day off," Mark protested. "Can't they call someone else?"  
  
Steve shook his head. "Two guys are on vacation and Murphy isn't cleared medically for duty yet." He refrained from mentioning that Emma was still almost exclusively working on Carol's case. "I have to cover for them just like they covered for me when I was gone."  
  
"It's just that it's your first day off in weeks."  
  
Steve struggled to hold his temper in check. This wasn't the first time he'd been called in on his day off. He also knew it wouldn't be the last and he told Mark that.  
  
"Go on then," Mark snapped. "Go solve someone else's murder since you can't seem to solve your own sister's."  
  
Jesse and Amanda were stunned into silence by Mark's harsh tone. Steve flinched at his father's cruel words and his face blanched beneath what was left of his tan. Mark seemed oblivious to the additional tension his words had caused.  
  
After a tense moment of silence Steve swallowed hard and said tightly, "Don't bother waiting up," before rushing from the room.  
  
Jesse noticed Mark didn't tell Steve to be careful as was his custom and to Jesse that spoke volumes about the state of their relationship. From the expression on her face, he could tell Amanda was thinking the same thing as she alternately looked between Mark and Steve's retreating figure. Suddenly, as if she had come to some decision, Amanda rose from the table and ran after Steve.  
  
"Steve," she called. "Steve, wait." He paused, his hand gripping the handle to the truck door, but didn't turn around. "He didn't mean it you know."  
  
"I'm glad you can be so sure." Amanda had never heard such bitterness from Steve before.  
  
"He's angry and frustrated and hurting. It's no excuse but - "  
  
"So I'm just supposed to go back in there and forgive him, is that it?"  
  
"No. Yes. I don't know," Amanda finally admitted. "I don't know what the answer is. I don't know what caused him to.to attack you like that. You certainly didn't deserve it. The two of you have to sit down and talk about whatever it is that's driven this wedge between you."  
  
"I can't."  
  
"Can't or won't?" Amanda pulled on Steve's arm forcing him to turn and face her. "You need each other, now more than ever, but if you can't talk to Mark or to Jesse and me, then find somebody else - "  
  
The shrill beep of Steve's pager interrupted Amanda in mid-sentence. Shutting it off, he looked at the display and then at Amanda. "I have to go," he said, climbing into his truck.  
  
"Just promise me you'll find someone you can talk to." Amanda reached up and laid a hand on Steve's cheek. "And even if Mark didn't say it, I will. Please be careful."  
  
***************  
  
When Amanda returned to the house, Jesse was alone and clearing the remains of their dinner from the table. "How's Steve?"  
  
"Not good. I'm scared for him Jesse. He's exhausted and distracted. He's not sharp and he could get hurt."  
  
"You think we should talk to Emma or Captain Newman about putting him on leave?"  
  
Amanda considered the idea for a moment and then rejected it. "In his present mind set, if he found out we went behind his back like that, he'd see it as another attack and it would drive him away from us for good."  
  
"You're probably right. Steve seems to think he's all by himself so we better not do anything to alienate him further."  
  
"Where's Mark?"  
  
"He headed toward the beach. We should make sure he's okay before we leave."  
  
Mark was nowhere in sight when Jesse and Amanda stepped out onto the deck. At first they thought he might have taken a walk, but then Jesse noticed movement by a dune near the water. Mark's white hair was barely visible in the fading light.  
  
Mark sensed more than heard the approach of his two young friends. He didn't know how long he'd been out on this dune trying to clear his head, but he was sure it had been awhile. The sun which had been shining brightly when he'd come out of the beach house was quickly dropping below the horizon.  
  
"Mark?" Amanda's soft voice came out of the darkness. "We wanted to make sure you were alright before we left."  
  
Slowly Mark turned around. His cheeks were still wet from the tears he'd shed. "I've been out here trying to figure out who that was who said those hurtful, mean words to Steve. I've never," he paused and gave Jesse and Amanda a pleading look, "never said anything that cruel before especially to my son. I don't know what happened. I felt like I was watching this stranger and I couldn't do anything to stop it."  
  
"Extreme stress can make people act out of character, Mark. You know that."  
  
Mark sighed heavily. "That's not a very comforting thought, Jesse, and I'm sure it doesn't help Steve any. Has he said anything to either of you about Carol's murder or the investigation, maybe mentioned something he was trying to keep from me. He won't talk to me. He's completely shut me out."  
  
"He won't talk to us either," Amanda admitted. "I really don't think he's talked to anyone since the funeral. When I think about it, that's when I remember him starting to draw away although I didn't give it much thought at the time."  
  
"Can we do anything for you?"  
  
"No but thanks for offering. I'm going to stay out here for a while longer and then, even though he told me not to, I'm going to wait up for him. I have to try and apologize."  
  
As it turned out, Mark never got the chance. Steve hadn't returned home by the time Mark fell asleep around two o'clock and there was no sign of him when Mark left for the hospital the next morning. Jesse reported seeing Steve at BBQ Bob's later in the day and Mark thought about stopping by, but then decided against it. He really wanted to talk to his son in private not at a crowded restaurant. He would wait until he and Steve could talk at home, Mark decided. After all, his son wasn't the only stubborn Sloan in the family. In this battle of wills, with so much at stake, Mark was prepared to wait for as long as it took. 


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10  
  
Emma stared through Captain Newman's office window at Steve who had just returned from court. He hadn't said much but, from the little he had said, Emma gathered his testimony hadn't gone well. That concerned her greatly. Steve was typically a prosecutor's dream witness as he rarely got rattled on the stand. He could've been having a bad day, Emma rationalized, but she had a strong feeling he was teetering precariously close to the edge of a meltdown. Sighing, she turned back to face her commanding officer.  
  
"At least let me be the one to tell him."  
  
Captain Newman hesitated for a moment then nodded his assent. Opening the office door she called to Steve and asked him to join them. Wearily he rose and made his way across the room. Emma shut the door behind him and motioned for him to take a seat. Drawing a breath, she turned to face him.  
  
"Steve, I'm sorry to have to tell you this but," Emma paused searching for the right words, "we're going to have to move Carol's case from active to open. We've reached a dead end on all the leads we had and haven't had anything new in days."  
  
"I understand," he replied, dully. "I'm surprised you waited this long."  
  
"I kept hoping something would pan out and we'd catch a break. Everybody has worked really hard to get this guy, but we just didn't have enough to go on."  
  
"Everyone has been instructed to keep the pressure on their snitches," Captain Newman added. "The media attention was too intense and somebody out there knows something. We just have to find the right person."  
  
Steve felt detached from the conversation as if he were an observer to it rather than one of the principle participants. Instead of the anger he had expected to feel upon receiving this inevitable news, he felt curiously numb and empty. The only thought that kept running through his head was how even in death he'd failed Carol by not being able to catch the person responsible for her murder. Reaching in his pocket he took out his badge, took his gun from his waist and laid them both on Captain Newman's desk.  
  
"What are you doing?" Emma asked, a sinking feeling in her stomach.  
  
"Turning them in. Consider this my resignation." Steve started for the door. "You can mail me whatever I need to sign."  
  
"I won't accept this," said Captain Newman.  
  
"I don't care. I'm not coming back."  
  
"Steve, have you thought this through completely? This isn't the best time for you to be making this kind of decision. You've experienced a huge trauma."  
  
"I know what I've been through. I lived it. I'm still living it every single day."  
  
"And that's why I think this isn't a good idea. You're not thinking clearly. No one would be in your position. Maybe I let you come back too soon. You need to grieve and you haven't let yourself do that yet. When you do, maybe you'll be ready to come back to work." Captain Newman picked up Steve's badge. "In the meantime, I'll hang on to this. We'll tap the vacation and sick time you've got banked and that should buy us a few weeks time. After it's gone, if you still want to resign, I won't stop you."  
  
"It's a waste of time," Steve said, impatiently.  
  
"Let me be the judge of that."  
  
With a final shake of his head Steve walked out of the office and the precinct. Emma sighed wearily. "Do you really think he'll come back?"  
  
Captain Newman considered her question a moment before answering. "If this was just another case, I'd say after a few days to put everything in perspective he'd be back. But it's personal this time, and I don't know if even a few months will be enough time for him to recover."  
  
***************  
  
Steve was relieved to see his father's car absent from its usual spot in the driveway when he got home. He wasn't quite ready to face him with the news of the status change of Carol's case. He also wasn't sure how he'd explain his impulsive decision to resign from the force. Steve had always tried so hard to live up to his father's expectations, but this time he knew he'd fallen way short. His father had trusted him to find the person responsible and he'd failed. Somehow he'd have to find a way to live with that disappointment.  
  
Steve contemplated going for a run or taking his dirt bike out on some nearby trails but couldn't muster up the energy to do either. Lost in his own thoughts, he was unaware of the car pulling into the driveway. It wasn't until Emma appeared next to him on the deck that he even realized he wasn't alone anymore.  
  
"If you came to try and talk me out of resigning, you're wasting your time."  
  
"I didn't. I know your mind is made up. I just came to make sure you were all right." Emma removed her sunglasses. "I've been worried about you. When's the last time you slept?"  
  
"I don't know. I'm afraid to close my eyes," Steve admitted. "When I go to sleep, the dream comes." "What dream?"  
  
"Seeing Carol in the alley. Lying in the trash."  
  
Emma winced. What a horrible image that would be to have to live with for the rest of your life, she thought. "Have you talked to anybody about it?"  
  
"I finally decided to see the department shrink."  
  
At least he's seeing someone, Emma thought in relief. Aloud she asked, "What about your dad? Have you talked to him?" Emma noticed Steve avoided meeting her eyes. "Have you told him about what you saw? Does he even know about the nightmares? About how much pain you're in?"  
  
"He keeps giving me these looks so he suspects something is wrong. He probably even knows its nightmares, but I haven't told him what they're about." Emma sighed in frustration. "I thought about telling him, even started to a couple of times, but then figured it wasn't worth it. Do you know what that would do to him?" Steve defended himself. "Anyway how am I supposed to tell him something so awful? It's not exactly something I can bring up over breakfast. Morning Dad," he mocked. "Coffee's fresh, I brought the paper in and oh, by the way, I was the one who identified Carol in the alley while she was still lying in the trash."  
  
Emma and Steve both whirled around at the sound of glass shattering behind them. Mark was standing in the doorway. From the look on his face, a mixture of anguish, shock and revulsion, it was obvious he'd overheard the last part of Steve's conversation with Emma.  
  
His own look horrified, Steve started toward him. "Dad."  
  
Mark backed away from Steve and Emma seemingly unaware of the puddle of glass and iced tea at his feet. Steve couldn't quite make out the emotion flickering in his father's glassy eyes, but he felt the sharp sting of his father's rejection when Mark rebuffed his advance. Turning on his heel, Steve disappeared down the deck steps without a word.  
  
"Steve, wait," Emma implored, but he didn't look back. A moment later she heard his truck start and pull out of the driveway.  
  
Stunned at the sudden turn of events, Emma looked back at Mark. He was gripping the doorway for support and it appeared he hadn't moved much farther than the few steps back he'd taken initially. Releasing the doorway he swayed and Emma jumped forward to keep him from collapsing. She guided Mark over to the sofa at a loss at what to do next. Steve was usually the one to hover over his dad and make sure everything was okay if there was a problem. In his absence, Emma did the only thing she could think of. She called Community General Hospital and asked to speak with Jesse.  
  
A moment later he answered his page. "This is Doctor Travis."  
  
"This is Emma Lopez. I'm at the beach house and I'm really worried about Doctor Sloan. Steve isn't here."  
  
"What's wrong with Mark? Is he sick? Bleeding? Does he need an ambulance?"  
  
"He's had a horrible shock and he's unresponsive. Conscious," she clarified quickly hearing Jesse's quick indrawn breath, "but his eyes are glassy and his breathing is shallow."  
  
"Okay, I'll be there as soon as I can. If his condition changes call an ambulance and me on my cell. Mark has the number by the phone on his desk."  
  
Mark's condition had changed very little by the time Jesse arrived about forty minutes later. His pasty skin color and glazed look concerned Jesse greatly. Reaching to take Mark's pulse, he looked at Emma.  
  
"You said he had a shock. What happened?"  
  
"Steve and I were on the deck talking, and Doctor Sloan overheard a part that Steve hadn't intended him to."  
  
"I thought you said Steve wasn't here."  
  
"He's not anymore. When Steve realized his dad was standing in the doorway and had heard what we were talking about, he tried to go to him, but it was obvious that Doctor Sloan had already 'checked out' so to speak. Doctor Sloan backed away from Steve, and I guess Steve interpreted that as a rejection. He turned and walked off the deck, got in his truck and drove away."  
  
The sound of voices seemed to penetrate Mark's fog. He began to stir, causing Jesse to momentarily forget about asking Emma what Steve hadn't wanted Mark to overhear. Sitting directly across from Mark, Jesse forced him to make eye contact. "Mark, can you hear me?"  
  
"Steve?" With an effort, Mark shook himself from his daze and looked around. "Steve?"  
  
"He's not here, Mark."  
  
Mark looked at Emma. "Where'd he go?"  
  
"I don't know," she admitted.  
  
"What he said on the deck? Is that true? Did he.was he.?" Mark couldn't go on.  
  
Emma nodded. "It's true," she confirmed. "I thought he'd told you but I guess it doesn't really surprise me that he hadn't said anything."  
  
Mark shook his head. "I had no idea. But it explains so much. The nightmares, the irritability, his behavior in general."  
  
Jesse could keep silent no longer. "What are you talking about?"  
  
Mark looked at Jesse. "Steve wasn't seeing Carol for the first time in the morgue. He'd already seen her in the alley, in the trash. He never told me. Just led me to believe that he'd already been to the morgue and made the identification before he came home to tell me."  
  
Jesse's mouth dropped open but for once no sound came out. "Wow," he finally managed. "Steve's been carrying quite a load these past few months."  
  
"Then he didn't tell you either?"  
  
"No. But you're right, knowing this does explain a lot about his behavior - the anxiety, the moodiness. I didn't know about the nightmares." Jesse blew out a breath. "Why does he always feel like he can't share anything with us?"  
  
Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Mark smiled at the frustration in Jesse's voice. Always quick to let his feelings show, Jesse had been trying for years to get Steve to open up more and not keep everything bottled inside, but Steve still insisted on shouldering many burdens himself. Mark's smile faded and he ached for his son and the intense pain he must be carrying as a result of what he had seen. No one, no matter how strong, should have had to see what he saw in the alley that day.  
  
Emma closed her phone. "I just tried his cell. He's not answering."  
  
"I'll try paging him," Jesse said, going to the phone on the desk.  
  
When they got no response after five minutes, Emma shook her head. "Either he turned it off or he's ignoring it."  
  
"Isn't he still on duty?"  
  
Suddenly, Emma couldn't make eye contact with Mark. He immediately sensed she knew something else she wasn't telling him. "Emma, what's going on?"  
  
Emma sighed. "You'll find out soon enough I suppose. Carol's case was moved from active to the open file today."  
  
"How did Steve take it?" Jesse asked.  
  
"Better than I thought he would," Emma admitted. "I expected him to be angry, but he was actually pretty calm almost too calm. I could've been giving him a weather report for as much emotion he showed."  
  
"His defense mechanisms kicked in," Mark said. "He's hurting. When he's too calm, that usually means trouble is on the horizon."  
  
"You know your son too well. He resigned on the spot. Left his badge and gun with Captain Newman and walked out of the station."  
  
Mark ran his fingers through this hair and tried to think calmly. That was hard to do with the sudden realization of how much emotional pain Steve was in. What was it about death in their family that caused them to drift so far apart from their usual, strong relationship? Once again, despite all the promises he had made to himself in the hours after learning of Carol's death, Mark had not been there for his son. However, he had a feeling that this time, in some misguided attempt to protect him, Steve had been the one to impose the distance so he wouldn't have to share the horror of what he'd seen and the subsequent nightmare it was causing.  
  
Jesse checked his watch. "I left another doctor covering for me so I have to get back to the hospital. Is there anything I can do? Any place you want me to check on my way to see if I can find him?"  
  
"No you go ahead, Jesse. Right now all I can do is wait him out. Steve needs time to sort things through and he'll come home when he's ready. Besides there are a dozen different places he might be and chances are he'll go from place to place so we'd run the risk of missing him. We just need to let him do this on his own terms."  
  
"I'll have dispatch broadcast a description of Steve's truck so the patrol cars can unofficially keep an eye out for him. If they see him, they'll report his location but won't pull him over unless it seems like he's in no shape to be driving. I can let you know what I hear."  
  
"Thanks, Emma. I'd appreciate that."  
  
"Okay, I've got to hit the road. I'll be in touch. And if he calls or comes home, you let me know."  
  
"I will," Mark promised. "And I'll call you too, Jesse."  
  
Following Emma and Jesse to the door, he watched until they were both out of sight. Closing and locking the door, Mark crossed to the windows that overlooked the ocean. His mind was whirling and he stepped out onto the deck to breathe in some of the tangy sea air hoping it would calm him. Come home Steve, he thought desperately. Please come home so we can work this out. 


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11  
  
Steve glanced in his rearview mirror and made a quick right turn at the next traffic light. For the past mile, it had seemed as if a patrol car had been discreetly following him keeping far enough back not to be noticeable but still able to keep him in their sights. Another quick look assured him that, if in fact he was being followed, his quick maneuver had lost his tail. Steve had every reason to suspect his fellow officers were keeping an eye out for him. His behavior earlier in the day had been out of character and they were probably worried he'd do something even more impulsive than resigning.  
  
Steve drove aimlessly for a while longer. He was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, but he wasn't sure if he was ready to go home yet. An image of his father's face on the deck flashed in his head. Guilt gnawed at him, and Steve knew he should at least call to make sure his dad was okay. Under normal circumstances he never would've left him in that condition, but these were far from normal circumstances. When his dad had backed away from him, his only thought had been to escape.  
  
Pulling his attention back to the road, Steve realized he'd been driving on autopilot for the past few miles. He looked around and discovered he was only a few blocks from Amanda's house. Maybe she'll let me spend the night, Steve thought. It's probably not a good idea for me to try and drive back to the beach tonight.  
  
A light was burning in the living room and another was on in the back of the house when Steve stopped his truck out front. He rang the bell and leaned heavily against the door suddenly afraid his exhausted body would refuse to remain upright. A moment later the porch light flicked on and the door opened.  
  
"Steve!" Amanda's voice conveyed her surprise. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Belatedly, Steve realized how late it was. "I'm sorry, Amanda. I should've called first, but I don't think I should drive home tonight."  
  
"Don't worry about it." Amanda took one look at his slumped shoulders and the pinched look around his mouth and eyes and guided Steve inside. He didn't appear to be intoxicated, but she agreed with his assessment that he wasn't in any condition to drive. She wondered what had happened to put Steve in this state and then decided it probably wouldn't do any good to question him tonight. She would wait until morning after he'd had some rest.  
  
"You can sleep in the guest room. The boys aren't here so you don't have to worry about waking them up. Not that they'd hear you anyway. You know how they can sleep through just about anything."  
  
After refusing Amanda's offer of something to eat or drink, Steve said good night and made his way to the guest room. The room was the smallest of the three bedrooms and rarely used except by Amanda's mother when she came for visits. Steve threw back the comforter and sat down on the edge of the bed to take off his shoes. Too physically and emotionally exhausted to even care about the possibility of having yet another nightmare, he was asleep practically as soon as his head hit the pillow.  
  
A few minutes later Amanda stood in the doorway watching her good friend sleep. Her heart went out to Steve and for the millionth time she wished there was something she could do to ease the pain he'd been in since Carol's murder. If his appearance tonight is any indication, he's well on his way to a complete physical and emotional breakdown, Amanda thought unknowingly echoing Emma's thoughts from earlier that day.  
  
The sudden ringing of the phone broke the stillness of the house. Amanda hurried to her bedroom and picked up the extension. She was surprised to hear Mark's voice on the other end.  
  
"Did I wake you?"  
  
"No. I just got home from the forensic science seminar. The thought of an empty house was too attractive to pass up so I checked out of the hotel and drove home."  
  
Mark sighed. "I'd forgotten you were gone. Then I guess you couldn't have seen Steve today."  
  
Amanda frowned at Mark's tone. If her suspicions hadn't already been aroused by Steve's sudden appearance on her doorstep, Mark's call surely would have set off an alarm. As it was, her instincts were screaming that something had happened to further strain their already tense relationship.  
  
"As a matter of fact, he showed up on my doorstep a little while ago. Said he didn't think he better try driving back to the beach house tonight and I agreed."  
  
"Is he okay?"  
  
"He wasn't hurt if that's what you're asking, and he wasn't drunk, just exhausted. He's asleep in the guest room. Mark, what's going on? What happened to cause Steve to end up on my front porch on the verge of a breakdown?"  
  
Briefly, Mark filled Amanda in on the day's events. "I thought he'd just blow off some steam and then come home so we could talk. When it started getting late, I got worried. A patrol car had been tailing him but lost him a little while ago."  
  
"You had the police tailing your own son?"  
  
"Emma suggested issuing a tail only order to see if we could track him down."  
  
"Mark, this has to stop. The two of you need to sit down and talk or Steve's health is going to suffer even more than it already has. Why don't you come over here in the morning? Maybe you need a neutral site to have this conversation."  
  
"You won't let him leave?" "No. C.J. and Dion are gone until the weekend. It'll be quiet around here. I'll tell him he can hang out and relax for as long as he wants."  
  
"Amanda, I don't know if this will make his nightmare better or worse."  
  
"Don't worry, Mark," Amanda assured him. "If something happens, I'll be here."  
  
A few hours later Amanda was awakened from a sound sleep. Momentarily disoriented, she found herself listening for one of the boys before she remembered they were at camp. Lying still, she tried to figure out what had disturbed her. She was beginning to think it had been part of a dream when she finally heard the noise again. Low moans were coming from the direction of the guest bedroom.  
  
"Oh no! Steve!" she whispered.  
  
Amanda pushed back the covers and grabbed her robe from the foot of her bed. Hurrying down the hall, she pushed open the bedroom door. The first thing that caught her eye was the empty bed. Puzzled, she stepped into the room and felt her heart sink at the sight before her. Huddled in the corner was Steve. He had pulled his legs up to his chest as if he was trying to make himself as small as possible and was staring vacantly into space. He moaned again.  
  
Amanda approached Steve slowly so not to startle him. Kneeling down in front of him, she placed a hand on his arm.  
  
"Leave me alone." Steve's voice was ragged.  
  
"Not this time, Steve." Amanda sat down on the floor beside him. "You've pushed me away for the last time. You've tried to carry too much by yourself for too long. I thought we were better friends than that."  
  
"I can't."  
  
"Yes, you can. You know you want to let it go. I know you want to let it go. Carrying everything inside is poisoning you. Even C.J. and Dion can see the difference. They miss the old Steve who'd come and throw the ball around with them or take them to the batting cage."  
  
Steve dropped his head into his arms. Now he could add C.J. and Dion to the list of people he'd disappointed. Would the pain ever stop? Would even the simple things ever seem normal again? he wondered.  
  
"I'm sorry, Amanda. They deserve better than what I've been able to give them lately."  
  
Amanda could've kicked herself. By bringing up C.J. and Dion, she had increased Steve's feelings of guilt. She needed to get the conversation back to his feelings and, more importantly, the nightmare that was ruining his health. "Forget C.J. and Dion. How much or how little time you've spent with them isn't the point. They're old enough to understand what's happened and how horrible it is. What I meant was that even they can tell how desperately unhappy you are despite your attempts to hide it from them." Amanda put her arm around Steve's shoulders shocked at how thin they felt. "Talk to me, please."  
  
Steve was silent for so long Amanda feared she had driven him back inside himself. When he finally began to speak, his voice was low and strained.  
  
"Every night I walk back into that alley. Every night I see the same thing. Carol - bloody, bruised and shot - lying in that alley and it's the worst feeling I've ever had."  
  
Amanda didn't know what to say. She couldn't reassure him that it was just a dream because it wasn't. Steve was reliving a traumatic event that had really happened. Deciding it would be better to say nothing at this point, she squeezed his shoulders as encouragement to continue.  
  
"Between being a cop and being in Vietnam, I thought I'd seen the worst life could dish out. I was wrong. When Ben Moeller moved away from the body and I saw.and I saw."  
  
Steve's voice broke and to his horror he could feel tears threatening to fall. He struggled to break out of Amanda's grasp, to get away and regain control, but she held fast. Finally the deep, choking sobs overwhelmed him and he slumped against her letting his grief pour out.  
  
Closing her eyes against his pain, Amanda let Steve's tears soak the front of her robe. She wondered if he'd let himself shed any tears prior to this but figured judging by his actions of the past few weeks he hadn't even allowed himself that small measure of comfort. Gently she kneaded his tense neck and shoulder muscles and whispered words of comfort to him, words she doubted he even heard. When she was sure the worst of the emotional storm had passed, Amanda slipped her arms from around him and got up from the floor. She moved a box of tissues to within Steve's reach then left the room certain he'd want some time alone to compose himself before facing her again.  
  
Steve listened to Amanda's footsteps recede before raising his head. He couldn't believe he'd lost control like that but, other than feeling slightly embarrassed by his outburst, he felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He tensed slightly as he thought about having to face his father again and knew he could delay that meeting only a few hours longer. Reaching for the box of tissues, Steve used several to mop up his remaining tears and then got to his feet. He made his way into the bathroom and found that Amanda had laid out fresh towels, a new toothbrush and a razor. Touched by her thoughtfulness, he wasted no time in putting them to use. Twenty minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom just as Amanda was coming from the kitchen. She handed him one of the mugs she was carrying.  
  
"My mom used to make me warm milk when I woke up at night," Amanda said. "I still can't convince her that hot chocolate is more soothing."  
  
Her comment brought a small smile to Steve's face. He looked down at the mug in his hand. "Mmm, I haven't had hot chocolate in ages. No marshmallows?"  
  
Amanda dipped her hand into the pocket of her robe and brought out a bag containing just a few marshmallows. "This is all I've got left until the next trip to the store. Thanks to you, C.J. and Dion refuse to have hot chocolate without them anymore."  
  
"You can't have hot chocolate without marshmallows," he protested as he dropped a handful into his mug.  
  
Amanda shook her head ruefully. If it weren't for the full-grown man standing before her, she'd swear she was having this conversation with her two sons. Taking back the bag, she tossed it on the coffee table. She sat down on the couch, tucked her legs up under her and watched as Steve paced restlessly his hands wrapped around the mug savoring its warmth. Amanda knew enough to wait until Steve was ready to talk. She'd get nowhere if she pushed him. Finally he came and sat down next to her.  
  
"I never should've unloaded on you like that," he sighed.  
  
"Now we're even." At Steve's puzzled look, she went on, "Think of all the times you've let me cry on your shoulder. Like when Colin and I separated or when I had to let C.J. go and spend his first weekend with Colin. Should I go on?"  
  
"I wanted to be there for you when you were hurting, Amanda."  
  
Amanda nodded. "And I wanted to be there for you. That's what friends are for."  
  
"I don't know what's happened to me," Steve admitted, suddenly. "After Carol was murdered, I was so angry. That anger gave me strength and kept me going, but now, now it's gotten to the point where it takes more and more energy to find that anger. My own sister is a crime statistic and I haven't been able to do anything about it. It should make me mad as hell, but all I feel is helpless and guilty."  
  
"That's depression, Steve. It's a normal reaction for someone to have. There's nothing wrong with it or with you."  
  
"I just feel so guilty that I couldn't protect her. I'm her brother. I should've been there to protect her and I wasn't. And even if I wasn't her brother, I'm a cop for God's sake. It's my job to make sure the people in this city are safe, and I failed. I failed my own sister. What kind of cop does that make me?"  
  
"A human one. There's no way you could've predicted this was going to happen. You need to let go of the guilt, Steve. If you let it go, the nightmare would probably stop. As long as you feel guilty, your subconscious is going to keep punishing you night after night."  
  
"Even Dad is disappointed in me. He blames me." "Mark would never blame you for something you couldn't control," Amanda protested.  
  
"It's in his eyes, Amanda. He's never said anything to me directly, but he came close at dinner the other night." Steve's eyes filled with pain as he remembered the incident at the beach house.  
  
Amanda blew out a breath. Steve was consumed with guilt over something he'd had no control over and it was ruining both his confidence and his health. Before she could try again to reassure him the doorbell rang. Steve frowned.  
  
"Kinda early for visitors isn't it? Expecting someone?"  
  
Rising from the couch, Amanda said, "Don't go away. We're not done here yet."  
  
Steve turned and rested his forehead against the fireplace mantel as Amanda left to answer the door. He was beginning to think she missed her true calling. Rather than a pathologist, Amanda should have been a psychiatrist. She was pushing him to confront his feelings much faster than the department psychiatrist had and it was emotionally draining work. The day had barely started and he already felt exhausted. Steve was vaguely aware of the murmur of low voices as Amanda answered the door, but he paid no attention to what they were saying. He wasn't even aware that she had let someone into the house until he felt a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Hello, Son."  
  
Steve's head jerked up. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised to see his dad, but for some reason he was. After yesterday's scene at the beach house, Steve hadn't thought his dad would want to see him again.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Steve asked, wearily.  
  
"When you didn't come home last night, I got worried. I was hoping we'd be able to talk and try to work through things. Then I called Amanda and she said you ended up here and that you were asleep. She suggested that we talk here." Mark sighed. "Steve, I want to apologize for my recent behavior but especially for yesterday. I reacted badly and you got hurt. It was just such a shock to find out that you'd actually been there, at the scene, and you never told me."  
  
"I understand, Dad. It's okay."  
  
The idea that Steve thought so little of himself or believed Mark thought so little of him combined with the worn out, defeated tone of his son's voice brought Mark's temper to the flashpoint.  
  
"No, it's not okay!" Mark snapped. "You're not okay, and you haven't been for a long time. I had no idea, no idea, how much pain you were in, and I blame myself for not realizing it sooner. Why didn't you trust me enough to share what you'd seen? Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
Amanda winced as she listened from the other side of the kitchen door. Mark rarely raised his voice to anyone let alone lost his temper so she knew the events of the past weeks had pushed him to his breaking point. It distressed Amanda to see her two best friends so distant from one another at a time when they should've been supporting each other. She held her breath when she heard Steve lash back.  
  
"I wanted to tell you! I wanted to come home that day and crawl into your arms and hide like I did when I was six and you'd tell me everything was gonna be okay!"  
  
"Then why didn't you?"  
  
"Because nobody should have to see what I saw that day, least of all a parent!" Steve shouted. "And when the nightmares started, I knew I couldn't tell you. What was the point? What was the point of both of us being tortured by those horrible scenes replaying over and over again in our heads? I couldn't protect Carol, but I could protect you." Steve's anger faded as quickly as it had flared. "Because nobody should have to see what I saw," he repeated softly, his voice clogged with unshed tears.  
  
Steve's grief and pain doused Mark's remaining anger. Reaching out, he tentatively placed his hand over his son's and breathed a silent sigh of relief when Steve didn't pull away from the contact.  
  
"I knew something was wrong," Mark said, self-recrimination in his voice, "and I didn't do anything to help you. If I'd been thinking more clearly and not been so wrapped up in my own grief, I would've realized that you had withdrawn into yourself too much, even for you. I wanted to be there for you this time like I wasn't when your mother died. Instead, I let you push me away thinking you were dealing with everything better than I was. All those times you wanted to be alone and I just let you go. I should've forced you to talk to me. We needed each other and didn't even realize how much."  
  
"All your life you've tried so hard to do what you thought was right even if it meant sacrificing yourself to do it. Now that I know what you went through that day, I want to help you. No more secrets, no more half- truths. From now on, we face everything together. The good days, the bad days, the anger, the guilt, everything. That's the way it should've been from the beginning. That's how it will be from now on if you agree."  
  
Steve searched his father's face for any sign of anger or condemnation and found none. Still he had to be sure. "You don't blame me for not keeping Carol safe or for not being able to catch the person responsible?"  
  
"Keeping Carol safe was out of your control. She was a grown woman living her own life and there was nothing you could've done differently." Mark touched Steve's face. "I'm sorry if I led you to believe that I was angry with you for not catching the person who did it. Yes, I am angry; angry that that monster is out there somewhere, but it was wrong of me to make you the target of that anger. You didn't deserve it. You and I are just as much victims in this as Carol was." Steve could hardly believe what his dad was telling him. He didn't blame him for Carol's death, didn't blame him for not being able to catch the person responsible. Steve had compounded their mutual grief by pushing his dad away instead of trusting him. When they had really needed each other, he had almost destroyed their relationship by underestimating his father's strength.  
  
"I'm sorry, Dad. I should've trusted you more. Should've had more faith in our relationship. I just was trying to spare you more pain by not telling you I was there that day."  
  
"I know that, and I appreciate it, but we can talk about it." Mark held his son's gaze. "I had Emma bring the crime scene photos over last night."  
  
Steve inhaled sharply. "Dad, she didn't."  
  
"She didn't want to at first. She told me that you wanted to know first if I ever asked to see them. But I was finally able to convince her I needed to see them if I was ever going to understand what you'd been through."  
  
Steve closed his eyes as he thought about his father sacrificing his own feelings to look at the gruesome pictures of his only daughter's murder scene in order to better understand the emotional pain his son was suffering. How could have he ever doubted his father's love and support?  
  
"I should've been there with you."  
  
Mark swallowed hard as he remembered his first glimpse of the pictures. "I won't lie to you. It wasn't easy, but now I understand. I know that sight will haunt you for the rest of your life, but I hope I can help it fade over time."  
  
Grateful beyond words, Steve simply stared at his father. Mark opened his arms and Steve, reading the silent invitation, accepted it immediately. Father and son shared a long, cleansing embrace drawing strength from one another. After a few moments Steve pulled back.  
  
"Dad, there's something else I need to tell you."  
  
"Anything. Don't ever feel like you have to hold anything back from me."  
  
Steve looked at his hands refusing to meet his father's eyes. "I quit the force yesterday," he said, quietly. "I just couldn't go on solving other cases knowing that I'd failed to find the person responsible for Carol's murder. No matter how many cases I closed, it was eating away at my confidence that I couldn't solve the one that really mattered."  
  
Mark remained silent forcing Steve to finally look up. Instead of the disappointment or anger he had half expected to see, Steve saw nothing but love and support in his father's steady gaze. "You already knew, didn't you?"  
  
Mark nodded. "But I'm glad you trusted me enough to tell me on your own." "Who told you?"  
  
"Emma. After you left the beach house."  
  
Steve shook his head ruefully. "Poor Emma. I left her to pick up all the pieces yesterday and to try and explain my behavior. That's not a moment I'm real proud of, taking off like that. I'm sorry Dad that I didn't come home last night. I guess you were probably worried, huh?"  
  
"I didn't start to really worry until after you shook your tail. We didn't know what happened to you until I called Amanda and found you here."  
  
Steve was pleased to know he'd had enough of his wits about him to be right about the tail. "I thought I noticed someone back there, but then I thought maybe I was being paranoid."  
  
"Steve, I need to know so please be honest with me. Why have you been avoiding me? Was it because of the nightmare?"  
  
"Partly," Steve admitted. "I knew it was only a matter of time before you started asking questions. You were already giving me the look."  
  
"The look?"  
  
"You know. The one where you know I'm hiding something from you but you haven't quite figured out what, and you're trying to decide when and how to get me to talk about it. It was easier to avoid you then answer a bunch of questions that were too horrible to even think about let alone talk about."  
  
"Was that the only reason?" When Steve didn't respond, Mark prodded gently, "Son, was that the only reason?"  
  
"I didn't think you'd want me around."  
  
Mark was stunned by Steve's strained admission. "Why would you think that?" He searched his memory trying to recall if he'd said or done something to give Steve that impression but came up empty. The shock that had rendered him numb for the first few days after Carol's murder had also left large chunks of time he couldn't recall clearly. "Did I do or say something - "  
  
"No." Steve was quick to reassure him. "It wasn't you, Dad. It was me. I thought you wouldn't want to see me because it would remind you that I was here and Carol wasn't, and that it could've been, in fact probably should've been, me lying in that alley."  
  
"Should've been?"  
  
"I lived with the risks of my job everyday. I always knew something could happen to me. Carol was an innocent bystander. She had no idea when she left to come here that she wouldn't make it." Mark ached for his son. He recognized the emotion Steve was feeling for what it was even if Steve didn't - survivor's guilt. "I guess it never occurred to me that you'd feel guilty about something you didn't have any control over. Steve, do you think you'd feel this guilty if Carol had died in a crash on the highway?"  
  
Steve thought about it for a moment. "Probably not, I guess. Why?"  
  
"Just like you'd have no control over the other drivers on the road at the same time, you had no control over the person who did this to Carol. This person made a choice and probably no one could've stopped him once he had made his decision to hurt Carol. Maybe it's because of the risks that you feel so guilty for not being able to do more to prevent it or to resolve it, or maybe it's simply because you loved your sister so much. Whatever the reason, I blew it by not being there for you. For not recognizing what you were going through."  
  
"You were already hurting so much. I didn't want to dump anything more on you. You needed to take care of yourself and not worry about what a mess I was."  
  
Mark smiled affectionately at his son. "Don't you know by now that worrying about you is my number one hobby?" he teased.  
  
Steve smiled in return. "Yeah, I noticed you seem to do it quite often."  
  
"In a way those first few days, we switched roles and you became the parent. Whenever I needed you, you were there supporting me, letting me lean on you, helping me make decisions. I didn't give you the opportunity to grieve because I depended on you too much. Then when I was finally getting it together again, you started drifting away. I suppose that's when the nightmare started?"  
  
Steve nodded. "It all kind of hit me after we came back from the memorial service in Portland. Those people knew Carol better than I did, and I was her brother. It made me angry.and guilty that I hadn't done more to patch up our relationship. After that, everything just started to snowball. We didn't have any leads, our snitches were useless. Then I started wondering if there was something more I could've done that day. Searched sooner, alerted the highway patrol, anything. And through it all, that nightmare was with me not letting me forget."  
  
Mark was so proud of his son. Steve placed such high expectations on himself. The weight of the emotional burden he'd been carrying would've crushed a weaker man yet he had refused to share that pain with anyone to lighten his load. Mark knew that although they'd never be the same people they'd been before this happened, they had survived and he was certain it had strengthened their already unshakable relationship. He knew they both had a lot of grieving to do yet, but now they could do it together supporting each other if at times it seemed like the pain was too much to bear.  
  
Mark stood. "What do you say we let Amanda out of the kitchen?"  
  
Steve looked at his watch amazed at how much time had passed. "Do you think she's ever spent this much time in a kitchen before?"  
  
"I wouldn't let her hear you say that, my friend."  
  
"That's why I'm still on this side of the door as I say it," Steve said, as he headed toward the kitchen. "Too many sharp objects within reach if I went through that door and teased her about her cooking skills." 


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12  
  
Amanda sat at the kitchen counter toying absently with her empty coffee mug. The morning paper she had slipped out the back and around the front to get hoping it would distract her sat untouched in front of her. The shouting from her living room had long since stopped and she could hear nothing but the occasional murmur of her friend's voices. Anxiously she looked at the clock. Mark and Steve had been talking for a long time. She could only hope it meant they were making progress. Sighing, Amanda got up to refill her mug. When she heard the door open she swung around, encouraged by the fact that both Mark and Steve were entering the kitchen. Her unspoken question hung in the air.  
  
"We're going to be okay," Mark told her.  
  
Amanda let out a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding and rushed to hug them both. "I'm so relieved," she whispered, fervently.  
  
Her comment made Steve realize just how hard the past weeks had been on her and probably Jesse too. "You can stop worrying. The road to self- destruction is closed. Permanently."  
  
"Good. I'm glad to hear it. I was so worried."  
  
"I guess I probably had everybody worried with my behavior. I know there'll still be bad days, but I'm beginning to realize I don't have to go through them alone."  
  
"I'll be there. Jesse, too," Amanda promised.  
  
"And you'll keep seeing the department psychiatrist?"  
  
Steve shot his father a startled look. He hadn't told anyone about his appointment with the doctor. Then he remembered he'd told Emma when they'd been out on the deck the day before. Either she had mentioned it or his dad had been standing in the doorway far longer than Steve had originally thought.  
  
"I guess Captain Newman did me a favor by not accepting my resignation and insisting I use vacation and sick time. This way I'm still employed and can make another appointment."  
  
Amanda smiled. "I don't know about you, but I'm starved."  
  
Steve realized that for the first time in weeks he was actually hungry and the mere mention of food didn't make his stomach churn. "You're offering to cook?" he asked, skeptically.  
  
"For your information, I can handle breakfast."  
  
Mark decided it would be better to intervene before this argument got out of hand. "We know you're quite capable Amanda, but how about if I whip up a bunch of pancakes? You go call Jesse and see if he wants to join us." "Didn't he work a late shift last night?"  
  
"He was supposed to be done around midnight," Amanda replied. "I have a hard time believing Jesse would pass up a chance at breakfast."  
  
It was a grumpy Jesse who answered his phone, clearly unhappy at having his sleep disturbed and Amanda couldn't resist the opportunity to tease her normally cheerful friend about his disposition. It only took a moment for her to realize that he wasn't appreciating her attempt at humor so she got right to the point of her call. By the time she had finished her brief explanation and extended the breakfast invitation, Jesse was somewhat placated and promised to be over as soon as he had grabbed a quick shower and got dressed.  
  
When Steve answered the door to admit Jesse a short while later, the young doctor took a moment to assess his best friend. Steve had clearly lost weight and still had lines of exhaustion etched in his face, but the biggest difference Jesse noticed was in his eyes. Although shadows of grief remained, Steve's blue eyes were clear, no longer dulled by his intense anger and despair. It had been that hopelessness that had made Jesse so afraid for his friend's mental health.  
  
Steve motioned him inside and by way of greeting said, "You don't look so great."  
  
"You mean two hours of sleep isn't enough to restore my natural beauty?" Jesse asked, sarcastically. Silently, Steve raised an eyebrow and Jesse realized how he must've sounded. "Sorry, it was a rough night after I got back to the ER. Two fatalities along with all the usual stuff."  
  
Steve knew those fatalities must've been bad to have that profound of an affect on Jesse. "Need to get it off your chest?"  
  
"Both were young and both were preventable. An eleven year old found her mother's handgun and ended up shooting herself in the chest."  
  
Unconsciously Steve rubbed the scar on his chest. He had first hand knowledge of the damage a bullet to the chest could do. He also knew it was nothing short of a miracle for him to be alive to talk about it.  
  
"She made it to the ER, but we lost her before we could get her to surgery. We just get that cleaned up and a drowning victim comes in. A four-year- old girl somehow ended up face down in the backyard swimming pool. We vented her but the neurologist declared her brain dead. There was nothing else we could do except ask the parents if they'd consider donating her organs."  
  
"What did they say?"  
  
"They weren't sure. And who could blame them? They just lost their little girl and I'm asking them to make a major decision about donating her organs."  
  
"Don't be so hard on yourself, Jesse," Mark counseled. "Organ donation isn't a simple subject under the best of circumstances. Did someone call Claudia?"  
  
Jesse nodded. "She had gone home but she came back to talk with the family."  
  
"Was she able to convince them to do it?"  
  
"Yes. She was amazing to watch. She answered all their questions and let them take as long as they needed. When they decided to go ahead and do it, she even offered to stay with them during the surgery. Her husband is out of town and she'd left her kids home alone so I thought she better get home to them. She didn't want to leave but I told her I'd sit with the parents. It was after two by the time I left the hospital and I was too wound up to sleep so I took a drive up the coast to look at the ocean and clear my head. I'd only been in bed a couple of hours when Amanda called."  
  
"Well then," Amada said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, "let's get you some coffee."  
  
"And pancakes?" Jesse asked hopefully.  
  
"Just another couple of minutes."  
  
"Who's Claudia? Do I know her?" Steve knew many people on staff at CG but that name was unfamiliar.  
  
"She's a peds nurse so you probably haven't met her. She also works as a liaison between the hospital and the organ procurement center. If people are undecided about donating a family member's organs, we call her. She has this calm and soothing personality and people just seem to respond to her."  
  
"Have you ever seen her lose her temper?" Jesse asked.  
  
"Does she even have a temper? Claudia always seems to have infinite amounts of patience."  
  
"I've seen doctors back down when she gets mad. You do not want to get on her bad side."  
  
"I can't believe that," Mark said, shaking his head.  
  
"It's true," Jesse insisted. At Steve's puzzled look, he elaborated, "Claudia's about five foot three, a hundred pounds with long blond hair. She could be a model she's so gorgeous, but under that china doll exterior is a spitfire. She's got a backbone of steel and will go toe to toe with anybody."  
  
"Better watch it, Jess," Steve teased. "Sounds like she could whip you."  
  
Jesse opened his mouth to retort but was distracted by the large plate of pancakes Mark sat in front of him. "Mmmm.just what the doctor ordered." Everyone laughed. Amanda put a pitcher of orange juice on the table and refilled their coffee mugs then took her seat. Conversation lagged as they all dug into the hearty breakfast Mark had fixed. Finally, as appetites were satisfied, the lull ended and they enjoyed another more leisurely cup of coffee and small talk.  
  
As Steve listened to his father and best friends, he realized just how much he'd missed spending time with them. He understood now how wrong it had been for him to shut them out of his life at a time when he needed them the most. These three people knew him better than anyone else in the world, and he should've known they never would've judged him or looked down on him if he had shared his grief with them. Steve didn't know why they had stuck with him these last few weeks, putting up with his temper and moodiness, but he was so very grateful they had.  
  
Amanda noticed Steve was awfully quiet and wasn't paying much attention to the conversation around him. His eyes gave nothing away so it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. She hoped he wasn't slipping back into his depression. They had worked too hard this morning to get to the root of his problems for that to happen. Gently, she reached out and touched his hand.  
  
"Steve?"  
  
Steve blinked. Looking up, he saw three faces staring back anxiously at him. "I'm sorry. I was a million miles away. Did you say something?"  
  
"You're just so quiet. We don't want you to fall back into bad habits and withdraw from us."  
  
Steve shook his head. "I was just thinking about the past few weeks and trying to figure out why you stuck with me through it all. I thought I had to be alone, that I didn't deserve any sympathy." Steve paused as he struggled to put his thoughts into words. At times like these, he wished he were more eloquent like his dad. Words came much easier to Mark than they did to him. "Despite my every effort to push you all away, you never gave up on me. You don't know how grateful I am for that. I hope I can be the same kind of friend to you."  
  
The emotionally charged atmosphere was broken by the ringing of the telephone. It saved Steve from having to say anything else and effectively ended the conversation. Amanda gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze as she passed by him to answer it. Silently, the three men rose and started to clear the table. They had almost finished cleaning up the kitchen by the time Amanda finished her call.  
  
"That was C.J. and Dion."  
  
"Are they having fun at camp?"  
  
"They were until I told them about having Mark's pancakes for breakfast. They were disappointed they missed them."  
  
"I'll fix them again when they get home," Mark promised. That gave Steve an idea. "I want to spend some time with them before they go back to school so maybe they could spend the night at the beach house. Is that okay, Dad?"  
  
"Sure. It's been a long time since they spent the night. We can get some movies and make popcorn."  
  
Amanda rolled her eyes. "I know what kind of movies you get. They're scared silly by the time they're over."  
  
Mark looked around. "Jesse didn't leave without saying good-bye did he?"  
  
"He wouldn't do that," Steve said. "Maybe he got paged and went to use the phone."  
  
Pushing the kitchen door open slightly so he could see into the living room, Mark said, "He's asleep on the sofa."  
  
"Let him sleep," Amanda said. "He had a long night."  
  
"When he wakes up, tell him that I'll stop by Bob's this afternoon and make sure everything is under control. I don't think he's supposed to close, but I'll check and if he is I'll get someone to cover."  
  
Mark looked at his watch. "I have to get to the hospital. I cancelled my morning appointments and got someone to cover my rounds, but I have some paperwork to catch up on before the afternoon patients start and I have surgery scheduled for late this afternoon. I won't be home until late so don't wait dinner."  
  
Steve nodded and Amanda slipped her arm around his waist as they walked Mark to his car. "So what are you going to do today besides stop at Bob's?"  
  
"I'm going to go home and shower and change and then run a few errands. One thing I need to do is to see Emma and apologize for my behavior. What about you?"  
  
"I'll probably check on those two fatalities from last night. I'm sure both will go to the county child death review team so I want to make sure everything is in order."  
  
The thought of the two young lives that had ended far too soon saddened the trio and they fell silent. After a moment, Mark climbed into his car and with a wave drove off in the direction of the hospital. Steve did the same thing turning his truck in the opposite direction toward the beach house. Amanda sighed softly as she watched them drive away. It had been a long, hard road for Mark and Steve, but she was confident their healing had finally begun. 


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13  
  
Steve watched Emma Lopez walk across the grass toward the bench he'd been occupying for the past half hour. He'd called and asked to meet her and, when she agreed, he'd suggested a park not far from the precinct. Steve knew he wasn't ready to return to the squad room yet especially after his rather abrupt exit the day before. He shook his head. Was that just yesterday? So much had happened in the ensuing twenty-four hours, fortunately for him all of it positive. He had reclaimed the part of his life that included his father and friends and had closed the chapter of his life that revolved around his job. Until recently, not being a cop would've scared Steve. His job had been so important to him, but in his heart he knew the time had come for him to move on and do something different. Fortunately he had the restaurant to concentrate on, and he looked forward to being able to devote himself full time to it.  
  
Emma took a seat next to Steve and sighed. "What a beautiful day."  
  
For the first time, Steve noticed how tired Emma looked and with a pang of guilt realized he was probably a major cause of it. "Thanks for meeting me."  
  
"It's on my way home. Anyway, I wanted to make sure you were okay."  
  
"Worried about me?" he asked, lightly.  
  
"If you only could've seen yourself yesterday," Emma said, seriously. "Everybody in the precinct was worried. I had to call Newman at home last night after your dad found you at Doctor Bentley's."  
  
Steve hated the fact he'd caused his friends and coworkers so much worry. "I am sorry about that. Sorry about a lot of things actually. Jesse told me how you stayed with Dad when I walked out yesterday. I'm not proud of how I acted. I don't think I've ever been lower emotionally than I was yesterday. Even after coming home from Vietnam and having people curse me and spit at me." he trailed off.  
  
"You don't have to say anymore. Apology accepted. I can't even begin to imagine what you've been going through or what you've had to deal with the past few months." Emma sighed again. "I'm just sorry we haven't been able to get this guy. I want to solve this one so bad for you and your dad. You deserve that much at least."  
  
"I won't - can't - lie to you. I want this guy too, but I know it's not for a lack of trying that you haven't caught him. You and the whole department have spent countless hours following every lead and tip. You've done everything possible, and Dad and I appreciate it. More than you'll ever know."  
  
"And we won't stop looking for this guy, Steve. You have my word on that, but.you realize we may never find him, right?" Emma looked at Steve. "Are you prepared to accept that?"  
  
Steve stared unseeingly across the park. Was he prepared to face that reality? That the person who had murdered his sister and coldly dumped her in an alley like trash might never be caught and punished? It was a question he'd wrestled with during many of his long sleepless nights. He was no closer to an answer now than he had been then. Shaking his head, Steve returned his attention to Emma.  
  
"I don't know," he answered, honestly. "That rational, cop part of me knows all the statistics about unsolved cases and the likelihood of getting a conviction. The part of me who was Carol's brother, though, is screaming for something to be done. That it can't just end like this. For the first time, I really understand a family's pain and anger when they're told there's nothing more that can be done; that every lead has been exhausted." This time it was Steve who sighed. "But I have to face the fact we may never find out who killed Carol. It's painful to accept that, but I have to find a way to cope with it. If I don't, it'll eat me up inside, and I don't want to live like that."  
  
"What about your dad?"  
  
Steve thought about his dad, a compassionate and gentle man who had dedicated his life to saving the lives of others. He had seen Mark forgive many people over the years for any number of wrongs but this was different. Someone had hurt a member of his family and family had always been Mark Sloan's first priority. Steve wasn't sure what his dad would do.  
  
"We haven't talked about it. He's been a part of enough investigations to know what I know, but everything changes when it's personal."  
  
Steve and Emma talked for a few more minutes before Emma said she needed to get home. He thanked her again for everything she'd done and made her promise to stop by BBQ Bob's sometime. Emma agreed immediately knowing she wouldn't be able to resist a big plate of ribs. After reminding him to keep in touch, she headed back across the park and toward her car. Steve watched her go but made no move to follow. It would be several hours before Mark got home from the hospital and he wasn't quite ready to return to the empty beach house.  
  
***************  
  
Mark unlocked the front door of the beach house and stepped inside gratefully. Every bone and muscle in his body screamed with exhaustion. Even after he'd known Steve was safe at Amanda's house, Mark had laid awake most of the night worrying about his son. Consequently he'd only been asleep a short while when he'd received Amanda's predawn phone call telling him he should drive to her house right away to try and speak with Steve. The emotional confrontation that had followed had been mentally draining and then he'd had a busy afternoon at the hospital. Mark shook his head. He probably should've postponed his surgical case or found someone to replace him. He knew he hadn't been as sharp as he should've been but fortunately the surgery had been routine and had gone off without incident.  
  
Other than a small lamp that cast a soft welcoming glow in the entry the house was dark. It appeared Steve's apartment was dark also. Mark listened as he made his way toward the kitchen, but the house was as silent as it was dark. He was beginning to wonder if Steve had already gone to bed when a shadow of movement on the deck caught his eye. Picking up his glass of iced tea, Mark walked over to the door.  
  
"Steve?"  
  
"Out here, Dad." Steve's voice came out of the night.  
  
"Do you want something to drink?"  
  
"No thanks. I've already got a beer."  
  
Mark eased his tired body into a chair. "That wasn't in the refrigerator was it?"  
  
"No, I stopped and bought it this afternoon." Steve toyed absently with the empty bottle. "It's the first one I've had since before Carol died."  
  
Mark was puzzled. He didn't care if Steve had an occasional beer and Steve knew that. He also knew his son was responsible enough not to drive if he drank too much. "You're an adult. I trust you to know what you can handle."  
  
"There were a lot nights the past few weeks when I would've liked nothing better than to just lock the door and drink until I couldn't feel anything anymore so the dream wouldn't come."  
  
"That wouldn't have solved anything."  
  
"I know. That's why, as much as I wanted to, I didn't do it."  
  
Suddenly Mark understood. Alcohol abuse was a common coping mechanism for people who found their grief and pain too overwhelming. This was Steve's way of telling him he hadn't succumbed to the temptation of using alcohol to numb his pain. Relieved, Mark let the silence stretch a little longer before finally asking, "How was the rest of your day?"  
  
"Good." Steve told him about his meeting with Emma. "I also saw Doctor Fulton."  
  
"He's the department psychiatrist?"  
  
"Yes." Steve stopped.  
  
"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."  
  
"It's okay. We mostly talked about what happened this morning." Steve smiled in the darkness. "I don't think he agreed professionally with the methods you and Amanda used, but he could see the difference in me as soon as I walked through the door so he conceded it was probably more effective than him trying to chip through my defenses a little at a time."  
  
Mark also smiled. "That's really not your style," he agreed. "Are you going to see him again?"  
  
"For a few more sessions. I don't know exactly how many. He says I'm still carrying around a lot of guilt about what happened."  
  
"And are you?"  
  
"I can't help it. It's just part of me, but Doctor Fulton seems to think I may have started to come to terms with it this morning when I was forced to confront my grief. When I saw him the first time, he told me I hadn't started to mourn Carol yet. He said that until I went through the mourning process, I'd never really be able to heal and move on. At the time I thought he was crazy but, as it turns out, I guess he was right."  
  
Mark was proud of his son and didn't hesitate in telling him so. "And I want you to remember I'm always here. I know you think you have to protect me, but it's important that we're honest with each other. You're not the only one who was left with unresolved issues. I struggle with how I could've been a better father to Carol so you're not the only one with guilt."  
  
"It seems the apple doesn't fall from far the tree."  
  
"We are a lot alike aren't we?"  
  
"Especially when it comes to Carol." Steve's tone was wry.  
  
Mark's chuckle was cut off by a yawn. "Go to bed, Dad. You're exhausted."  
  
"I feel like I could sleep for a week," Mark admitted.  
  
"Do you have to be at the hospital in the morning?"  
  
"Jesse agreed to look in on my patients. The only reason I'd have to go in is if something happened with my surgical patient."  
  
"Good. Maybe we can drive up the coast for dinner. Just the two of us."  
  
"I'd like that." Mark rose. "Should I lock up?"  
  
"Go ahead. I'll use my outside door when I'm ready to go in."  
  
"Okay. Don't stay out here too long."  
  
"I won't." Steve paused a second before adding softly, "I love you, Dad."  
  
Mark's hand stilled on the doorknob and he swallowed hard against the rush of emotion that simple sentence evoked. "I love you too, Steve," he replied, hoarsely.  
  
Steve listened as his dad closed and locked the doors leading out to the deck. Sometime they'd have to talk about their feelings regarding the possibility of Carol's murderer never being caught but it wouldn't be tonight. The conversation was too important to discuss when Mark was so tired. Nevertheless, they wouldn't be able to put it off too long because Steve knew that finding a way to come to terms with that very real possibility would be an important piece to the healing they both had to do.  
  
When he was satisfied Mark was truly in for the night, Steve pulled Carol's teddy bear, Willie, from the deep corner of his chair. He wasn't sure why he'd hidden the scruffy bear when his dad had stepped onto the deck. Maybe it was because he was a little embarrassed at the thought of being caught clutching it although he knew he had no reason to be. Steve knew Mark would never judge him about that. More likely it was because the bear was his last link to Carol and he was reluctant to share it with anyone even his father with whom he shared virtually everything else. Burying his face in Willie's matted fur, he could still faintly smell the soap and perfume combination that had been uniquely Carol's. Steve wished Willie could talk so the bear could tell him why Carol had, despite her obvious anger toward her brother, chosen to hang onto him for all these years. Steve hoped it meant that she too had never forgotten the bond they had shared growing up and that she had hoped that one day they would truly reconcile their relationship and be able to put their past differences behind them. Absently he stroked Willie's head.  
  
"All I ever wanted was for you to be happy, Carol." Steve put a voice to his thoughts. "You'll never know how much I regret causing you so much unhappiness. I hope you can forgive me. And I'm sorry we never totally resolved our differences, but know that I'll miss you.and love you forever."  
  
Falling silent, Steve listened to the familiar sound of the ocean. In the distance, he could hear a boat as it motored slowly along the shoreline and the laughter of its passengers no doubt heading home after a day of fun and sun. Someday he'd laugh again too, Steve knew. Maybe not tomorrow or even next month but someday in the future his grief would ease allowing him to laugh again. In the meantime, though, he and his dad would mourn Carol's death taking as much time as they needed to do it. They would help each other with the difficult task of letting go and saying good-bye as well as doing everything they could to keep her memory alive. No matter what happened or how much time passed, Steve knew he'd spoken the truth. He would never forget his sister.  
  
Suddenly, a bright light lit up the dark sky. Steve watched as a meteor reentered the atmosphere and streaked across the sky before fading in the night. Not one to usually believe in such things, he nonetheless took it as a sign that Carol had heard him and was extending her own olive branch. Hugging Willie a little closer, Steve turned from the railing and headed downstairs to his apartment. For the first time in many weeks, he looked forward to going to sleep. No longer did he have to fear the nightmare. His darkest hour had finally passed.  
  
The End  
  
Author's Note: For those of you expecting a neat resolution to Carol's murder, I apologize for undoubtedly disappointing you. When I started this story, my original intent was to give Mark and Steve some measure of closure with the capture and conviction of the person responsible. While I was writing, however, I got caught up in the media coverage of a local trial in which it took police nearly eight years to arrest and bring to trial a suspect in a murder case. That started me thinking. What if the police couldn't find the person who'd murdered Carol? How would Mark and Steve deal with that on top of their grief and guilt? So I dumped the outline I'd been working from, changed directions and this was the result. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.  
  
Thanks for all your reviews and comments which were greatly appreciated! And special thanks to Nonny for without her encouragement this story never would've been posted!  
  
Sharon 


End file.
